


Disclosure

by SocialDeception



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: AU, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward parties, First Kisses, Isabela is bad at matchmaking, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Sexual Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDeception/pseuds/SocialDeception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke was many things, but adventurous wasn't one of them. So when he finds himself falling head over heels for a tattooed musician, he loses his balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in this fandom and first time writing an AU at all, so I'm a little nervous. X) Any feedback is appreciated.
> 
> I'd also like to send a thankful thought to my lovely beta, Ukenceto, who is always patient with me, even when I'm a right pain <3 I highly recommend her stuff :)

"You have to come, kitten." Isabela said, dumping down on Hawke's bed with an exasperated sigh. "You're gonna die an old spinster if you keep this up."

Hawke didn't answer, instead doing one last spell-check on the recent interview he had conducted. It was an obsessive compulsive thing at this point. He had to do it at least four times, even if that meant doing it four times in a row.

"If I come." Hawke started, putting a hand up when Isabela's face lit up. " _If_ I come, then it's for my job, and not for... What's his name?"

"Anders." Isabela grinned. "You'll love him. Cute, blonde..." She trailed a finger along the pattern on Hawke's bed spread. "... _Lanky_..."

"I do _not_ like lanky." Hawke tried to protest, but he had to smile when he caught Isabela's knowing look.

"Oh, hon, if there was a magazine called Lanky Hunks you'd buy it... I mean, every single guy you've had a crush on these past year have been lanky, and you know it." She laid down completely on his bed, spreading her arms out. "And I should emphasis the _crush_ part. You had your heart broken, kitten, not your penis."

Hawke scoffed. "Don't you worry about my penis, Isabela."

She turned to look at him. "Oh, but I do! Garrett Hawke, it's my duty as your best friend to make sure you're happy. And you wont get happy unless you get your..."

"Don't." Hawke interrupted, laughing. "Please don't finish that sentence."

"So you'll go?" Isabela got up, eyes lit up in excitement.

"Fine. I'll go." Hawke turned back to his article, ignoring Isabela as she clapped her hands together. "Though I know I'll regret this."

 

* * *

 

The nightclub was smoky, crowded and slightly smelly. Hawke kept catching whiffs of intense body odour, stale beer and pot, and he crinkled his nose slightly as he tried to find Carver. Despite his brother's tendency to be both sulky and tardy, he was a damn fine photographer and they made a great team. Their mother kept asking them to start a business together, making dreamy comments about _The Hawke Brothers_ and equally pompous names, but Hawke was happy enough to let someone else deal with Carver. He'd hate being Carver's boss, or worse still, having Carver as a boss. If he could shudder internally, he would.

Hawke kept his press pass visible, wondering if he had to go backstage to find Isabela or Carver. He kept hoping the magazine he worked for would give him more serious and in-depth articles to work on, so far he'd been stuck doing reviews or interviews with local bands if he was lucky. Not that he really minded, it was interesting and gave him experience he needed, but he was running out of ways to butter up to musicians without them noticing.

He felt terribly out of place in places like this. The people around were at least one head shorter than him, and about half his size. Hawke looked like a lumberjack, or something else equally physically demanding. Truth was that the only exercise he got was carrying his mom's groceries once a week and walking his beast of a dog, aptly named Dog. He'd never been very creative. But what really got him in crowds like these were how little adventurous he was. He rarely, if ever, went out to places like these, and all the young people in their mesh clothes made him feel both old and dull.

He couldn't find Carver, but he finally saw Isabela waving at him from a dark corner. He wondered if she had been doing it for a while, because the arc of her arm was wide and sweeping, and she laughed once she got his attention, moving her eyes to the side as she talked to someone Hawke couldn't see.

_Anders._

Hawke hated being set up, he had specifically told Isabela not to, yet she kept pushing her luck. At least he was here under the pretense of work.

One upside with being his size was that people seemed to part naturally as he walked through the crowd, the downside being that he was approaching the table far quicker than he felt ready for.

Maker... He _was_ lanky.

Anders turned out to be everything Isabela had claimed, though the shaggy hair tied in a loose ponytail was more strawberry blonde than actual blonde, if Hawke had to nit-pick. Good thing Isabela didn't know of his secret love for red-heads, or she'd smuggle Anders into his bed when Hawke wasn't around.

"Sooo, kitten." Isabela purred, moving so Hawke could sit down next to her. "This is Anders, and Anders, this is Hawke."

"Hey." Anders' voice was kind and honestly a little soothing, like he was used to talking to small animals or children. _Good start, good start._

"Hey." Now this was where Hawke's expertise as a journalist came into play. He didn't even have time to be nervous, breaking the start of an awkward pause with a few questions.

Anders seemed to appreciate it, he relaxed against the worn leather couch with a small smile playing at his lips.

"So, Anders..." Hawke started. _Real smooth, using his name like that, real smooth._ "What do you do?"

"What, Isabela didn't tell you?" Anders nudged Isabela's shoulder. "I'm playing here tonight."

"You're in a band?"

"Yeah, Somniari. Isabela told me you might be interviewing us next week?"

Hawke felt a slight blush creep up his neck. He'd come here tonight to watch a local band that had suddenly shot to fame. The interview wasn't scheduled until next Friday, but he preferred to see the bands he was gonna interview a few times beforehand. Get to know them a little, so to speak. He hated when people knew about that habit though.

"Somniari?" Hawke coughed, trying to buy some time.

"It's Tevene." He shrugged and laughed. "My vote was for Andraste's tits."

Hawke let out a laugh that ended in a snort.

_Fuck._

"Where's the rest of your band?" Hawke hurriedly added, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far. It isn't my band, and eh... Not all of us get along." Anders shrugged. "They're into the whole rock and roll thing, and I just want to play drums."

"You know." Isabela chimed in. "My friends always, _always_ tell me to go for the drummer. Much nicer, unless you're going for a bad boy." One eyebrow immediately shot up, and she pursed her lips.

"Yeah, yeah. We all know you go for the lead singer, Isabela." Hawke tried to ruffle her hair affectionately, which she quickly dodged, snacking his hand.

"Anyway, I should get back in. We're on in about thirty minutes and... Well, you know." He shrugged apologetically. "It was really nice meeting you, Hawke. I hope I see you at the after-party."

Then he gave a little wink and disappeared in the mass of people.

"Well?" Isabela squealed. "What do you think? Is he cute or what?"

"He is." Hawke agreed, still staring at the point where he had morphed into the crowd. "But I told you, Isabela, I'm not rea..."

"No. No. I refuse, kitten. I refuse to listen to this. You're getting laid and that's that."

The opening act came on stage just as Hawke was about to protest, drowning out any words he might have had.  
Isabela winked at him, sticking her tongue out.

As on cue, Merrill and Varric came out of the crowd, carrying three large glasses of beer, and a pale drink with an assortment of fruits. Hawke smiled and tried to shout hello to them, but the crowd roared and clapped too loud for them to hear. Still no sign of Carver, but Hawke thankfully accepted one of the beers, settling down against the leather with a sigh.

"Aveline had to work." Merrill exclaimed before they even had a chance to sit down.

"Thought you only existed in your apartment like some sort of Twilight Zone episode." Varric leaned in and half-shouted in Hawke's ear. "I'm glad to see you out among the living, friend."

It was true. Hawke had had some pretty rough weeks. Months if he was gonna be perfectly honest.

Okay, it had been a year.

Not that he was counting days or anything.

_379 to be exact._

His ex, now forever dubbed Mr. Dick, and not in a good way, had broken his heart. Funny how these things worked. They had just bought their first apartment after six years together, and Hawke had thought that things were going real fucking dandy until the day Mr. Dick had asked for a blowjob and some money for gas, and then left for good. Hawke still didn't know which part made him angrier. The mortgage on the place or the blowjob.

Probably the blowjob.

But he couldn't have asked for better friends. Even if the heartbreak had been rough, he'd learn to value them even more. Aveline, Isabela, Varric and Merrill had done everything a friend should and more. Let him sob on their shoulders, bring him ice cream at two PM and bad-mouth the ex so he didn't have to sound bitter when he did it. But then... But then they thought it was up to them to find a replacement. _Best way to get over someone is to get under someone_ , Isabela had winked. Hawke wondered if she actually came up with these things herself, or if he had missed some sort of handbook.

They approached it in different ways. Aveline was who he considered his grown-up friend. She told him in no uncertain terms that his sex life was his own, and she wouldn't meddle. Isabela was head on, of course. Varric tried to hide behind friendly concern while Merrill was... Well, Merrill was kind of oblivious in that endearing way that made Hawke question if she was the smartest one of the bunch, just better at hiding her intent.

"Why do they call this drink a Margarita? Is it like the pizza?"

_Then again, maybe not._

"Oh, kitten." Isabela said before a roar went through the bar, people shouting, clapping and whooping, marking the end of the opening act.

He suddenly regretted going. His head was starting to hurt, to be honest, and he'd rather be home in a pair of comfortable pants and watch trash TV. Or just a lazy gathering with the others, playing cards and getting drunk off cheap beer at their local pub.

Isabela grabbed a hold of his hand, trying unsuccessfully to pull him out on the floor. He downed the rest of the beer before allowing her to.

She had this uncanny ability to just snake her way through the crowd, even with someone as tall and broad as Hawke tagging along, and the four of them soon found themselves in a comfortable spot near the front, but far enough out on the side to avoid the worst of the dancing and shouting people pressing forward to catch everything.

Smoke started pouring out on stage, making the lights shooting across the room ghostly and muted. A low rumble started spreading, and people started clapping as the band came out on stage.

They all walked casually towards their instruments, Hawke halfway expected more of a show, but they seemed confident as they walked across the stage. Well, at least Anders did.Truth be told, Hawke didn't look at any of the others at first. As soon as Anders came on stage, he started scanning the crowd, catching Hawke's gaze with a large grin and keeping it.

He had discarded the large jacket he'd sported earlier, leaving his arms bare in a long, fitted tank top. He wasn't thickly built like Hawke, his arms long and slender, but strong. A quick look to the side confirmed what he knew. Isabela was staring right at him, winking and grinning.

Well, he supposed she had a reason to be smug. Anders _was_ cute. No butterflies and shaky knees, but cute. He'd like to get to know him better at least, which was a huge step forward than everything else he'd done in the past year.

She'd been right in that he'd had crushes, but only from a distance. He might not want to sample anything on the menu, but he could appreciate a nice cut of... No, he couldn't finish that thought. He wasn't Isabela, even when he tried.

He'd rather not look obsessive and stalker'ish, so he let his eyes wander a bit to the other members. After all, it would be embarrassing if he was gonna interview these people and all he could say about them was how the drummer had lanky and sexy arms.

The lead singer was a tall red-head, eyes so blue that when the light hit them they appeared almost translucent. He thought about turning to the others and ask if this was the one Isabela and Merrill had been talking about, but the high pitched squealing next to him just sort of confirmed the suspicion. And he was good-looking. Clean-cut from the front, but when he turned, it looked like his nose had been broken, giving him some definite bad-boy appeal. He wasn't exactly Hawke's taste, but he could see it.

Then he let his eyes wander to the bass player and the world stood still. Such a cliche, and of course one Hawke would use, but there were no other words for it. Once he had his eyes on him, he couldn't tear them away.

The bassist had his eyes closed, dark eyebrows knotted together. In the fog that seemed to spark like lightning he looked almost otherworldly, light dancing over white tattoos and even whiter hair. The white tattoos swirled down from his chin and over his neck, disappearing out of view below the collar of his shirt.

And this time his knees did feel weak. It felt like all the blood suddenly pooled in his chest and his cheeks, rendering his arms and legs useless.

The lead singer was still singing, though Hawke couldn't make out the words anymore. Not until the chorus came and the white haired bass player came closer to the microphone, opening his eyes as he started background vocals.

"Then I saw you. Then I saw you. Then I saw you."

That was all he sang, and only for a brief moment, but Hawke was sold. His voice seemed too deep and dark for his body somehow, a commanding presence that caught Hawke off guard.

If this had been a romantic movie or one of the cheap paperback books Isabela liked to get, then his eyes would shoot up as he sang the words, meeting Hawke's gaze. They'd suddenly be alone and he'd realize they were meant to be together and come off stage so he could fall into Hawke's arms.

In reality he didn't. Of course he didn't. When he didn't keep his eyes closed, they seemed to be staring out into nothingness. Not in a creepy, vacant kind of way, more like he had way too much on his mind to acknowledge the hoard of people in front of him. He didn't see Hawke at all.

 _But I saw you_ , Hawke thought. _I saw you._


	2. Chapter 2

"You guys were freaking awesome!" Isabela said, kissing Anders' cheek.  
  
His already flustered face seemed to flush brighter, and somewhere behind him Hawke could hear Merrill whisper "Cute!" way too loudly.

Hawke felt out of place again. He'd figured the after-party was small, but it was smaller than expected and it just made him feel like he stood out even more. It was a rather large, open room, with large, L-shaped couches put in a large rectangle on the opposite side of the windows. He scanned the rest of the room quickly for the bassist, finding him sitting in one of the deep windowsills, smoking a cigarette. He had his long legs stretched in front of him, head tilted back, and his eyes closed.

"So Hawke, what did you think?" Anders tugged a little on Hawke's shirt, catching his attention. Maker, Hawke hoped he hadn't caught him eyeing the bass player. Not that he had any obligations to the guy, but it still seemed rude somehow.

"Hey! You were great! Very good at... Y'know... Keeping your rhythm."

_Fuck. What am I saying._

Anders' lips quirked a little, his eyes softening as he scanned Hawke's face.

"So you gonna introduce me?" Hawke cleared his throat awkwardly, trying not to cast a glance in the bass player's direction, probably failing miserably. It felt like his eyes were made of magnets somehow, and the white haired man was north.

_Maker, what is wrong with me? Where do I make up all this shit? Magnets? North? I'm seriously out of my element here._

"Well, the ginger bastard over here-" Anders nudged the lead singer who just grinned at Hawke "Is Seb. First class asshole, but a nice guy."  
  
Seb just smiled and nodded, clearly not bothered by the somewhat questionable description, before pouring all his attention back to Merrill, trailing a hand across her small forearm. Hawke wasn't entirely sure if he liked someone being introduced as an asshole touching someone sweet like Merrill in that way.

"On guitar you have the lovely Tallis." He pointed in the direction of a pretty, willowy woman, currently in what seemed like a heated argument with Varric. "And sittin' over there, looking totally miserable as always, is Fenris."

Hawke's head snapped to the side, _subtle Hawke_ , to where Fenris was still sitting.

"Miserable as always?" Hawke asked in what he hoped was a disinterested tone.

"Maker, yes." Anders started, and Hawke got the feeling Anders didn't like Fenris much. "It's impossible to talk to him and not get some sort of snappy reply."

 _Challenge accepted!_ Hawke thought to himself. Shit, he really had turned into Isabela, hadn't he?

"So is this where I'm interviewing you guys on Friday?"

"I suppose so, I mean, that shit goes through our manager." Anders made a face. "So who knows."

A man in leather pants at least two sizes too small asked for Anders' autograph, and Anders' shot Hawke a brief, apologetic look, mouthing _I'll see you later_ , before being hauled off to a group of teenagers that apparently had won backstage passes. Everyone else were engulfed in their own conversations, so Hawke ended up just sitting there, staring at Fenris.

Fenris had already finished one cigarette, lighting a new one with the butt of the old one, his hands trembling slightly as he did so. The strange, swirling white tattoos extended down to his hands, Hawke realized, and he found himself wondering where else they might extend.

Should he just go over and introduce himself? Ask for a cigarette? That would have been pretty awkward considering how he'd never smoked a cigarette in his life. A coughing fit was solid ground for a relationship, no doubt. Well, there was always Friday. Maybe he'd have a good conversation starter by then.

"Well, well..." He hadn't even noticed Isabela was standing right next to him, one hand on her hip. "Seems like my matchmaking skills aren't as good as I thought."

"What are you talking about?" Hawke coughed, twisting his body more towards her. "I like Anders..."

"Yeah, sure, you _like_ him, but you're not eye-fucking him like you are that guy." She tipped her head in Fenris' direction. "Not that I blame you, mind you, he's lanky in _all_ the right ways." She clicked her tongue approvingly.

Hawke knew there were little to no point in trying to lie to her, so he just sighed.

"His name is Fenris, and if I could, I would bear his children, is that what you want to hear?"

Isabela laughed. "Not really. I was hoping you'd say you wanted him balancing on your dick, but I guess anything is an improvement from you opening your door with raw cookie dough in your beard."

"That happened _once_ , Isabela!" He sniffed. "Besides, what happens during heartbreak shouldn't be held against me."

"That happened _last week_ , Hawke!"

"Whatever." Hawke leaned back. "Either way, I have no idea how to talk to someone like him. He isn't even remotely approachable."

Isabela turned in Fenris' direction, cocking her head as she studied him. "Hmm..." Then she cocked her head the other way. "Hmm..." She repeated. Clearly even Isabela thought he was a lost cause.

"I want to go home."

"Nonsense." She pulled on his sleeve. "I'll sacrifice myself this round, Garrett, so remember this next time I need your help."

She used his first name, which meant she was serious.

"But your idea of help is driving across the border or getting criminal records erased."

"So you better step up." She laughed, put let go of him as she closed in on Fenris.

He was even better looking up close. How was that even possible? Fenris was looking up at them now, eyeing them with apprehension. His eyes were green, Hawke noticed. Like a forest. What if he was gonna introduce himself and that was all he managed to say? _Hello, your eyes are a forest, let me walk in you._ Oh no, no, no. He couldn't do this.

"Hey, you're Fenris, right?"

"Yes?" He stared at them, still a bit guarded, but at least mixed with some curiosity now.

"Can you settle an argument for us? You see, my friend here, Hawke, says he really likes your bass guitar. Says it's a Fender Deluxe Active P Electric Bass Guitar with a custom maple pickguard. That's what you said, right, Hawke?"

Hawke nodded fiercely even though he had no idea what she'd just said.

"And now, I'm absolutely positive that it's a MM Stingburn. So I was hoping, like I said, that you could settle the argument for us." Then she beamed at Fenris while he stared at them wild-eyed.

"Your friend is correct," he finally stammered. "It is a Fender. You have got a good eye, Hawke. As for it being a Stingburn? I'm afraid I haven't heard of a brand like that. Maybe you meant a Stingray or a Washburn?"

_How in all that is holy does Isabela know anything about bass guitars, let alone which brand he's playing?_

Isabela pouted. "I guess I owe you a beer, Hawke. _Don't move_ , I'll get it for you." Then she was gone.

And Hawke was standing there.

Alone.

With Fenris.

"Uhhh..." Hawke started, and Fenris stared up at him, looking slightly unnerved again.

_Don't say anything about his eyes. Don't say anything about his legs in those pants. Don't say anything about his hair._

"You were really good out there. I couldn't look away."

_Oh great..._

Fenris was still staring at him like he couldn't quite decide if he was gonna stay or run away, but at least now one corner of his mouth hitched up a little. It wasn't quite a smile, but it wasn't a frown either. Definite progress.

"Thank you. It's a good bass." He lit up his third cigarette, tilting the pack out for Hawke, who shook his head.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Fenris moved his legs slightly, and Hawke took that as a confirmation. In either case, he sat down.

"You play here a lot?"

Fenris leaned his head back again, relaxing slightly as he exhaled a pale column of smoke.

"Yes. Our manager owns the place. As a kid I would go around begging for gigs, but now it's almost a bit too much." He chuckled, which made something almost swell inside Hawke's chest. "I shouldn't complain, but I am tired. I work from the time I get up to the time I have … I have to go to the sound-check and do the concert." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking another shivering drag of his cigarette.

Hawke didn't quite know what to say to that, instead studying Fenris' face now that he'd closed his eyes again.

"Forgive me. I shouldn't be troubling you with this."

"It's no trouble. I like listening to you talk."

_Smooth, Hawke. Real smooth._

It didn't seem to bother Fenris, in fact he looked up at Hawke and this time he definitely smiled.

_I want to go out with him. I don't even know him, but I want to get to know him, and not just because he's fucking beautiful, but because there's something in those eyes that I want to know. Say something, Hawke. Say something, he's staring at you._

"Your hands are shaking." Hawke could feel himself make a quiet little groan at the comment. You don't just tell people that they tremble.

Fenris didn't seem to take offense, he just extended one hand, staring thoughtfully at his fingers.

"So they are." He murmured gently.

"You okay?" Fenris' eyes fluttered slightly as the question slipped past Hawke's lips.

"Did you know you're the first to ask me that in a very long time?" He curled his fingers together, making a fist before uncurling them, and looked back to Hawke's face, studying him. "No. I'm not okay. I'm tired. Certain things have wormed its way into my life and I-" His voice faltered. "I'm having a hard time kicking the habit."

For a second his face was unguarded, soft almost, until it closed again.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"Well, like I said, I like listening. I'm... Uh. A great listener actually."

Fenris closed his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again. "Tell me about you, Hawke." He finally said, sounding exhausted.

"Well... Not much to say, really. My name is Garrett Hawke. I live alone in a small apartment downtown. I have two siblings and a dog."

"What's its name?" Fenris asked.

"Dog."

"Yeah, the dog. What's its name?"

"Dog."

Fenris opened one eye. "You named your dog... Dog?"

"Yes."

Fenris smiled again. "That's a good name."

Hawke resisted the urge to tell him that he sometimes opened the door with food in his beard. Maybe on their first date.

"I... Uh... I prefer quiet gatherings to be honest. My mother says I'm an old man stuck in the body of a much younger man. Speaking of my mother, she loves to knit scarves, but she's really bad at it. So you might have seen me around the city wintertime in ghastly scarves that are actually more holes than actual scarf. Orange ones, usually."

Fenris smiled. Hawke was obviously on a roll here.

"You're a good son, Hawke."

Hawke was just about to say something, when Isabela's voice shook him out of it. She was speaking quite loudly, louder than normal, and when Hawke turned he saw her trying to stop Anders from coming over.

"So... Uhhhh! Drums! Can you teach me, kitten?"

"Maybe some other time. Hey, Hawke. I was wondering where you went." Anders didn't even look at Fenris, but he had a slight scowl that told Hawke he wasn't happy that Hawke was sitting with him. "You wanna head out and grab something to eat?"

Hawke glanced over at Fenris, his face was closed off again, and he was staring out the window, seemingly not even paying attention to the conversation next to him. Behind Anders Isabela was sending Hawke pained, apologetic looks.

"Actually, Anders, I need to find my brother." It wasn't a lie. It really wasn't. Carver was supposed to be here. Maybe he forgot his press-pass again.

"Sure, fine. I guess I'll see you Friday?"

"Yeah. I'll be here." In his peripheral vision he could tell Fenris was looking at him. Shit. Fenris was totally gonna think he was into Anders. "I'm looking forward to seeing the band again."

_Good, Hawke. That was good._

It seemed like Anders thought the same because he smiled widely, his eyes crinkling slightly. It made Hawke sad. Anders was the kind of guy he should be into. He was cute and seemed like a person who kept his heart on his sleeve. Uncomplicated.

"Looking forward to it." He said, putting a hand on Hawke's shoulder, squeezing it gently before leaving. Isabela motioned towards Fenris with desperate head tilts before she followed Anders back to the large couches where the rest of the party had grown louder, no doubt with the help of large quantities of alcohol.

Hawke turned back towards Fenris, finding him lighting another cigarette and back to staring out the window.

"It was real nice meeting you Fenris. I hope you'll be here Friday as well."

"I will be here," he said curtly. The gentle familiarity of their previous conversation was gone, he was closed off and dismissive again. Hawke waited about two seconds before he turned to leave.

That's when Fenris' fingers stretched out and grabbed the fabric of Hawke's shirt, stopping him.

"It was nice meeting you too, Hawke."

And with that he let go, and Hawke swore he felt about ten pounds lighter as he fluttered off towards the door.


	3. Chapter 3

"You could've at least _looked_ for me when you realized I wasn't backstage," Carver snarled, staring sullenly out the car window. And he was right. Hawke probably should have. Then again, Carver really needed to learn not to forget the damn card for every single job they did together.

"You know, maybe you should get that press pass tattooed on you," Hawke grinned, leaning over to ruffle his younger brother's hair. "On your biceps or something. That way it would always be visible."

Carver scoffed and wrapped his hands protectively around his, admittedly, bulging upper arms. He wasn't built like Hawke, his muscles had come with a lot of effort at the local gym. While that in itself was admirable, his new-found obsession with sleeveless shirts had crossed over to the ridiculous. Hawke had caught him folding the sleeves of a shirt their mother gave him up right above the thickest part of his arm, showcasing his hard work.

"It's not like we were really working tonight though," Hawke continued. "And you've worked Black Emporium before, you know how the lighting is."

"Still," Carver said. "I wanted to meet the band. I like them."

"Yeah? What do you know about them?" Hawke asked, resisting the urge to ask directly about Fenris.

"Not much," Carver admitted "Their manager keeps their private life under tight wraps. It's a PR nightmare, apparently. I have a few friends who knows Seb though. A bit of a self-righteous bastard by the sound of it."

Hawke chuckled. "Yeah, I figured as much. I gotta tell Merrill to watch herself around him." He squirmed a little. "The others seem very down to earth though. I talked to a few of them. Anders and... Uh, Fenris."

Carver didn't answer at first, just squirmed uncomfortably.

"Fenris? I've heard he doesn't talk to a lot of people. Apparently caught up in a lot of shit." Carver stared out the window. "Are you just gonna drop me off or are you gonna come in for a bit? Bethany is nagging me about it again."

"What do you mean, "shit"?"

It was obvious, wasn't it? Even his brother would know he was head over heels infatuated with a tattooed musician. What a cliche. He'd thought Bethany would be the one to scare their mother with scary rocker dudes, but apparently he was gonna be the one instead.

"Drugs or something, I dunno." Carver shrugged. "So are you going home, or what?"

Okay, so Hawke wanted to bring home a tattooed musician on drugs. _Great._

"I'm gonna head home, I think." He kind of wanted to press the subject further, but resisted the urge. Carver was already annoyed with him, better not push his luck. "I was up early today and my head is still ringing from the concert."

"My brother. In his twenties, but already yelling at people to get off his lawn."

" _Late_ twenties, if you don't mind."

"I know people way older than you that can drink me under the table. Age isn't an excuse. You were old coming out of the womb." Carver had this ability to say things that _could_ have been a harmless joke in a tone that made everything sound like a deathly insult. Hawke was used to it.

"Please don't talk about our mom's uterus like that."

"Oh, sod off, Hawke."

 

* * *

  
Home. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his neck. At the beginning of the evening all he wanted was to go back home, but now he kind of wished he hadn't left. Or more specifically: That Fenris was there with him, preferably in lazy pants and in the mood for crappy TV-shows.

_Garrett Hawke. The born romantic._

He put the car keys on the rickety old key holder that Bethany had made him in fifth grade and called for Dog. She immediately poked her face out from the corner into the living room, staring at him with large, sorrowful eyes. It took a few seconds of soulful staring before she started trotting slowly towards him when he patted his thigh and called softly for her.

She always did this. He'd leave, sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for a few hours, and when he came home she'd pretend to be heartbroken, slinking towards him against the walls, except her tail would betray her as it wagged so violently it sounded like a damn bongo drum.

"Hey, old girl." He sat down, and true to her pattern she bolted the last few steps towards him, jumping into his arms, licking his face and smacking her tail all over the place.

"Yeah, you're a good girl, aren't you?" He rubbed her stomach, kneading the flab that seemed to grow bigger and bigger by the day. He couldn't quite figure out how either. The vet had put her on a special kind of diet food a few years back, yet she seemed to be thriving on the stuff. His mother had once suggested that while he was out Dog was secretly raiding his fridge and that's why she always slunk around when he came back. It was a terrifying thought, and one he couldn't quite get out of his head.

"Did you steal my bacon, Dog? Did ya?"

She made a happy little sound in the back of her throat, which Hawke took as confirmation. Carver gave him a nanny-cam a few months back, to catch her in the act, but Hawke found the idea just as terrifying. It was buried in the back of his closet. He wasn't ready for the truth.

"Wanna go out?" Her tail thumps intensified and Hawke found her leash and snapped it on her collar. "Come on, chubbs." Then he changed his mind, leaving the leash on the floor as he went into his bedroom where he pulled off his fancy pants and replaced them with his worn old pajama bottoms. Dog followed him happily, trailing the leash behind her like a banner.

 

* * *

  
Hawke went out into the cool night, and started their usual walk around. People called this part of Kirkwall "Lowtown" because of its cheap housing and dodgy areas, but Hawke liked it. The apartment complex he lived in was centered around a large swimming pool that seemed to be empty more times than not, but it was a hip and artsy neighbourhood, with lots of events and things happening. Not that he necessarily participated in said events, but he liked the vibe. Not to mention no one gave him any strange looks when he walked his dog with pajama bottoms on at all times of day or night. They had all grown up in the suburbs, in a two-story house with a large garden. Parts of him had longed to live in a seedy neighbourhood, probably to counteract the suburban sixty-something year old he kept inside.

He'd moved to the area as soon as he finished college, meeting Mr. Dick on the first day of his new job.  
  
Lucky him... At least he hadn't laid any claims to Dog. Hawke bent down to give her an affectionate pat on the rump.

Thinking about his shamble of a love life made him think of Fenris. He hadn't seem disinterested, if Hawke's very limited experience on the matter held true. Not that he really knew what to do if he was interested. It had been a long time since he actively pursued anyone.

Yet now he found himself secretly looking forward to Friday.

 

* * *

  
"I wasn't able to make it here Saturday. My apologies. I'm Danarius." Somniari's manager was a tall, kind of imposing man with gray hair and beard, and cold eyes to match it. "I usually don't let them bring people backstage without me around, but you know." He gave a short smile that seemed terribly insincere, and Hawke found himself disliking the man immediately.

"Well, that's life." Hawke didn't know what to say. He wanted to be sarcastic and say something about babysitting or needy girlfriends, but he wasn't in a position to do so. He'd gotten in a few spats with touchy artists and managers in the past, and he couldn't risk another, especially not since Somniari was the hottest new band around and so far they had given very few interviews. "I'm glad you're here to see me today," he added, and the smile on Danarius' face seemed real this time.

"You've found yourself quite the talented group," Hawke continued, and Danarius leaned back, a self-satisfied smirk creeping across his face.

"Yes. I like to think I have a certain talent of finding _talent,_ " he said slowly. "They are a group of quite gifted musicians, aren't they?" His voice was fond when he spoke of them, and his fingers trailed along the edge of his desk. On the wall behind him were a collection of framed photographs, showcasing his quite substantial amount of talented musicians.

Hawke's eyes stopped at a picture of Fenris. In all reality it was a picture of the four in the band, but Hawke just stared at Fenris' face. The others were laughing, while Fenris was leaned back against the couch they were sitting in, a small smile gracing his lips. It was embarrassing to admit, but his heart started thumping uncomfortably against his ribs. Would it be an conflict of interest to ask about Fenris? It would, wouldn't it? That would be a lack of integrity, surely.

"Where did you find him? _Them_ , I mean."

Danarius narrowed his eyes, but didn't comment on the word "him".

"Auditions, mostly." He leaned back, eyes still narrowed as he studied Hawke. "Some, like Anders, I found not that long ago. Others, like Fenris, I found young."

"So you have an eye for talent." Hawke struggled to keep his tone disinterested again. "Would you say that's the secret behind your success?"

Danarius relaxed, chuckling. "I suppose you could say so."

His eyes were unnerving. Cold. Like they could read Hawke like an open book, and he didn't particularly like what he saw.

"You own Black Emporium, is that so?"

"Yes, I do, but I hardly think that's gonna be relevant for your story. So what do you say we go see the show, and then we do the interviews after?" A slow smile started spreading on Danarius' face, before he slid a piece of paper across the table to Hawke. "You know. As long as you sign these."

Signing papers like these were routine, though Danarius' seemed to be a little overzealous. He still signed them. That was the way of the game, and he knew it as well as Danarius did.

 

* * *

   
The opening was similar to the one he'd seen last Saturday. The strange fog and the lights, the quiet rumbling.  
  
But when Fenris came out on stage there was a subtle change. This time he scanned the audience carefully, and when he found Hawke's face among them he smiled.

It was just the slightest little tilt of his lip, and a brief softness to his eyes, but it was enough to almost floor Hawke completely.   
  
He smiled back. Probably too wide and too goofy, but he didn't even care.

He knew Carver was around taking pictures, and he hoped he'd gotten a shot of Fenris smiling.

He could hardly move his eyes away from Fenris, but he tried to at least catch certain glimpses of the others. Anders smiled as warmly as he ever did when their eyes met, while the other two flirted mercilessly with the audience as a whole. They played better than they had the previous weekend, and this time Fenris didn't knot his eyebrows together. He still kept his eyes closed a lot, but softer this time.

It was hard to remember the questions he had prepared for them, and he was happy he had hastily scrawled them down before coming, though he had to scratch quite a few due to Danarius' strict contract.

For now he decided to just forget about the questions all together, relaxing as he took in the music and their performance.

 

* * *

  
He was nervous as he prepared the tape recorder, and he tried to swallow, though his throat suddenly felt parched. Even though he had the tape recorder, he felt naked without a notebook and a pencil. It had to be a pencil and not a pen. The sound of scratchy lead on paper always gave him chills, but he couldn't seem to stop.

 _Except modern pencils aren't made of lead_ , he scolded himself. _They're made of graphite, or you'd get lead poisoning._

He scanned over his questions for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, wondering what took them so long. Or why he was so nervous.

He'd become a journalist mostly on a whim. He wouldn't exactly call himself a _journalist_ either, that word made him think of important people going to war-stricken countries to tell the world what they saw. It made him think of his father. Not some guy working for a shady music magazine. It paid well though, and he had fun. His nervous, sarcastic way of speaking seemed to put most people at ease, and it was easy enough to bullshit them if he had to.

Now he just felt sweaty and slightly nauseated, and he had to fight back the urge to bolt when he heard the doors across from where he was sitting open.

Danarius lead the way, with the other four trailing behind him. Anders smiled when he saw Hawke, doing a slight upwards nod before claiming the seat straight across from him. Tallis and Seb seemed too caught up in a discussion with Danarius to acknowledge him. And then there was Fenris. Gone was the softness of his face. He almost scowled when he stared at Hawke, folding his arms over his chest dismissively as he sat down.

 _Off to a great start,_ Hawke thought, trying to swallow the lump of stress that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want a dog like Dog. That is all.


	4. Chapter 4

The interview had been strange. He was happy it was over, truth be told. He wasn't sure what he had expected.

_Yes, you do, Hawke. You expected him to stare longingly into your eyes across the table. And then the others would dematerialize and you'd reach over to him, trailing the tattoo on his chin with your fingers. Or tongue. Maybe both._

Anders and Seb had been nice enough, answering his questions with ease. Tallis had been harder, after a misplaced joke on Hawke's part, but Fenris had been downright hostile. Danarius hadn't made it easier, clearing his throat as a warning every time he thought the questions were out of bounds.

Hawke dumped down in his car seat, leaning his head back with a deep sigh. It had been rough. He'd been looking forward to this all week, imagining all sorts of things, and now he just felt demotivated and honestly, kind of sad. The dim lighting from the empty parking lot seemed to fit the mood. Bleak and grey. If there had been a light sprinkling of rain it would have been the perfect setting for a angsty teen novel of some sort.

The smile Fenris had sent him during the concert had given him hope that he'd at least accept an offer for a cup of coffee after the gig, but the sneers he'd sent him during the interview told him otherwise. He couldn't even tell where he'd gone wrong. With Tallis, he knew. He knew the exact moment she got angry with him, but Fenris seemed to be angry from the get-go.

He sighed again, and stuck the key in the ignition. He was about to turn it when a quick rapping on his car window made him jump.

It was Fenris.

He leaned down towards the window, still scowling, motioning for Hawke to either exit the car or open the window, Hawke couldn't tell. He decided to get out of the car, and awkwardly shrugged out of his safety belt.

As soon as he got out, before he could even ask, Fenris started talking.

"You're a journalist." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I am."

"I did not know you were a journalist. I-" He paused. "I wouldn't have told you as much as I did if I knew."

It was Hawke's turn to frown.

"You mean when we talked last week?"

Fenris ignored him, his voice raising as he kept talking.

"I always have to deal with idiots like you who have no real notion about anything. Trying to pry secrets out of me like it's some sort of game!"

Hawke felt floored again, though from completely different reasons. Fenris was actually snarling now, and the more the spoke, the angrier he seemed to get.

"You're just like all the others, so numb from your occupation that you seem to completely forget that I am a real person with real emotions, and not some sort of plaything!"

"I wasn't working when I talked to you then, Fenris." Hawke tried to get his attention, but Fenris seemed to be completely lost in a rage that not only seemed like an overreaction, but not be about Hawke at the core. Yelling now, his face almost unsettling in its fury.

"Fenris!" Hawke tried again, and this time he grabbed Fenris' arms. The effect was immediate. As soon as he touched him, Fenris pressed forward, pinning him to the car, pushing against him so close that Hawke could feel every tight line of his body. Their faces were just a few inches apart and Hawke stared down at him in disbelief, Fenris' face twisted in rage, his teeth bared.

"I'm not gonna say a word of what you told me," Hawke said softly. Fenris stopped dead then while something seemed to be sinking in.

Then he deflated, going almost limp in Hawke's grip.

"I'm..." He started, and Hawke let go of him. "I shouldn't take out my anger on you."

"I'm not some sort of sleazy reporter that will keep a recorder in my pocket and pry secrets out of you. I might be a journalist, but I still got some pride." He tried to not think about what he'd done the night before. Eating peanut butter straight out of the jar with his fingers, too lazy to get a spoon.

Fenris' eyes dropped quickly to Hawke's hips, no doubt scanning him from any suspicious bumps in his pockets.

"You're welcome to check," Hawke offered, raising his hands up.

Fenris actually smirked a little at that. "No need," he finally said. There was still a slight edge to his voice, but he seemed calmer.

"I'm sorry, Fenris. I guess I should've said. Anders knew, so I just assumed..."

"Anders and I don't exactly talk a lot."

And Hawke knew that. He had known that. Now that the adrenaline had left his body, he felt almost breathless, pinching between his eyes to fight off a budding headache.

"Wanna get a cup of coffee?" The words slipped out before his brain had time to process the wording or the timing of the invitation, and his eyes snapped open when he realized he'd actually said the words out loud.

In front of him Fenris seemed just as surprised, and Hawke cursed himself silently.

"Andraste's sagging bottom, of course you don't-" he started, but Fenris was quick to interrupt him.

"I do... Actually." His eyes flickered towards the side-entrance with a frown, before looking back at Hawke's face. "Though you'll have to drive."

_He said yes._

Hawke was too stunned to speak, he just stared wordlessly at Fenris until Fenris got that look of undecided panic again.

"Great!" He finally managed, his voice a solid four octaves higher than his normal pitch. "Get in, I- The door is open."

Fenris stalked around the car, getting in with a frown still on his face.

_Maker, what have I gotten myself into?_

But he still got into the car, hoping Fenris couldn't actually see the persistent throb of his pulse on his neck, or the smile that seemed to be permanently etched onto his face.

 

* * *

 

Fenris chose the coffeehouse, which turned out to be in Hawke's neighbourhood. He'd often seen the place, but never been inside it.

The lighting was dim, casting a flattering and comfortable glow across mismatched chairs and small tables. Hawke fell for the place immediately, and followed Fenris as he sat down in a sunken couch in a corner. The walls around them had various artworks of various quality, some with a red sticker meaning they were most likely sold.

It didn't take long before a nervous looking woman walked up to them carrying a small notebook. When she saw who it was her face split in a grin.

"Fenris! The usual?"

Fenris nodded, and they both turned to Hawke.

"Uh... I'll have the same?"

"No, you're driving. I don't think that would be wise."

"Oh, uh... A coffee mocha then. With extra chocolate. And maybe some muffins." His stomach chose that moment to rumble. "Yes, definitely a few muffins."

"A muffin for me as well, Orana. Thank you."  
  
Orana nodded and smiled before leaving them alone.

"So this conversation is off the record, right?" Fenris looked down as he said it.

"Yes. If I'm working I will leave the tape recorder on the table and ask you specifically for consent."

Fenris winced. "It's just... Difficult," he finally mumbled.

Hawke didn't want to use his journalistic skills to get things out of Fenris, he really didn't. But he stayed quiet after Fenris spoke, waiting patiently for anything he might add to it. Most people did. It was slightly awkward, like it always was, but it didn't take long before Fenris spoke again. Like he said. Most people did.

"No doubt you had to sign Danarius' little form," he started, slowly, each word spoken carefully. "That doesn't just go for reporters such as yourself. We all had to sign one. He practically owns us. And if I speak to reporters about things I'm not allowed to, then..." He let his voice trail off.

"Is that legal?"

Fenris shrugged, his lips curling in a humourless smile. "Who knows. But we have a contract now, and I for one do not wish to be sued."

They sat in silence for a little, not a calculated silence this time, but time for Hawke to think about what Fenris had just said.  
  
Admittedly, he didn't know a whole lot about show-business, which was ironic considering his line of work. His knowledge didn't stretch further than the papers he had to sign. Maybe he should ask Carver about this stuff.

Orana came with two glasses of steaming liquid and two plates of muffins. One muffin for Fenris and three for Hawke, and they both thanked her. Fenris wasn't joking when he said Hawke needed to get something else. The fumes from his cup alone were enough to make Hawke dizzy. By comparison his own cup seemed admittedly childish. Maker's breath, even the spoon had some sort of curly design. He stirred it self-consciously, watching Fenris pick at his muffin out of the corner of his eye.

Even the dull lighting in here couldn't hide the dark circles under Fenris' eyes, or the tired line of his mouth. He looked like he hadn't slept right in weeks, and Hawke got a sudden impulse to just wrap him in his arms and take care of him.

"What are you drinking?" He asked instead, stuffing half of a muffin in his mouth.

"Carajillo, though-" He stared into his cup. "With the amount of whiskey I have Orana put into it, I'm not sure if it can still legally be called that." He smiled wistfully as he took a sip. "Name means courage in Spanish, if I got my origin story correct. Seems appropriate."

"You feel you need courage?"

"For someone who isn't working, you sure do ask a lot of questions." His voice wasn't unfriendly, but he looked guarded again, picking off a small piece of his muffin and putting it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Would you believe me if I said I don't really like the attention?" He seemed to catch the fleeting look of disappointment on Hawke's face, because he quickly added "I mean when I'm playing. Or lately even when I'm not. It can be exhausting when people only want to talk to you because you've suddenly gotten interesting."

"Groupies?" Hawke didn't really want to know the answer. This was probably why mother had warned them about dating musicians. The thought of Fenris with a new group of men or women after each gig wasn't pleasant. In fact he was surprised at himself for the sudden pinching feeling in his stomach.

"Seb usually takes care of the groupies, but yes. They can be exhausting. I try not to interfere." He rubbed the back of his neck, stretching gently. "But enough about me. Anders interrupted your tale of badly knitted scarves, I believe."

"Such a riveting tale you just couldn't forget, huh?"

Fenris chuckled, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Well..." Hawke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "One time my mother decided she wanted to knit sweaters for us kids. Except she kind of gave up after making one for me. Luckily for the others, not so lucky for me." Hawke smiled and leaned back. "It didn't cover more than my chest, leaving my midriff bare. I once lost a bet and had to go to the local grocery store in it."

They both laughed at that.

"Please tell me there's pictures?"  
  
If Hawke didn't know better, he'd swear Fenris was flirting.

"Oh, yes, of course. I carry it in my wallet." He started talking his wallet out and Fenris stared at him wide-eyed.

"R-Really?"

"Well no." Hawke laughed at Fenris' disappointed expression. "But I do have it back home. My brother is a photographer, and he takes advantage of it every chance he gets."

"Good." Fenris laughed, taking his jacket off. Although he'd already guessed the tattoos covered his arms as well, he still couldn't keep his eyes off the pattern trailing down his forearms. He hadn't seen a whole lot of white tattoos around, and he liked the way they contrasted against Fenris' tanned skin. The only other examples he'd seen had mostly disappeared within the first month, or morphed into something more akin to a skin disease. But these lines were crisp, pale and very clear.

"I imagine I must look extreme to you." Hawke wasn't aware Fenris had caught him staring until he spoke.

"Extreme? It isn't extreme until you got a tattoo of a crossbow on your butt," he snickered, finishing the second muffin in front of him.

"A... Crossbow?" Fenris raised an eyebrow.

"My friend Varric woke up one night after a date with a tattoo artist and realized she had tattooed a crossbow on his butt while he was passed out." They both laughed.

"No, I was looking because I like the way they look on you." He finally added, catching the faint smile on Fenris' lips before it was gone.

"Can't say that I particularly like them, but I'm glad you do."

The way he said it made Hawke think he shouldn't ask anymore about the tattoos, so instead he ate the final piece of muffin. "Last time you asked about me, so I think it's only fair if I get to ask about you?"

"Not much to tell." Fenris shrugged, but the tension around his eyes betrayed him. "I started playing the bass when I was around twelve, got signed with Danarius when I was sixteen."

"Sixteen?" Hawke realized he'd almost shouted it. When he was sixteen he spent his days gawking at guys and failing horribly at math tests, not starting a career. "I'm impressed."

"Other than that, there's not much to tell. I don't get to do much besides work on our music, rehearse or actually play. It's a lonely life."

Hawke was struck at how honest Fenris was, but Fenris didn't seem to think much about it, he was back to picking at his muffin.

"I'm sure I could make it a lot less lonely." Hawke sat in stunned silence. This was the sort of thing he'd think about, not what he actually said out loud. Something about Fenris made the thoughts slip out before he could stop them.

"I bet you could," Fenris chuckled. He didn't seem too bothered by the comment. He stayed quiet for a minute, before he finally furrowed his brow and looked at Hawke. "I just don't know what you'd do with a bass player without much free time or anything to offer."

"I think you have plenty to offer, Fenris." Hawke put his hand briefly on Fenris' forearm, before he put it back on the table.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Fenris mumbled, taking another large sip from his glass. It might just have been a trick of the light or Hawke's desperate fantasies, but he could have sworn his ears turned red.

 

* * *

 

"I've had... A really nice time with you, Hawke," Fenris said, pushing the collar of his jacket against his neck. The wind had picked up since they arrived, and by the look and sound of it, it didn't seem to be dying down anytime soon.

"I had a nice time too," Hawke said, walking to the other side of the car. "Where should I drop you off?"

Fenris suddenly looked nervous. "I'll walk, it isn't far."

"Nonsense. It's no trouble at all." Hawke opened the passenger door and tried to usher Fenris in, but Fenris didn't move.

"No, really. I'd prefer to walk."

Hawke paused, realizing Fenris was fidgeting nervously with his jacket. "Okay," he finally said, closing the door. Fenris was still standing near the rear of the car, and Hawke noticed for the first time that he had a bad posture. For some reason he found that fact endearing.

Fenris coughed nervously into a clenched fist, casting shy glances up at Hawke, and Hawke wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Had this been a date? A friendly outing? A way to clear the air? He wasn't even sure, and he wasn't sure how to say goodnight.

In front of him Fenris seemed to be wondering as well, but he made a decision before Hawke had a chance to.

"You have given me much to think about, Hawke," he finally drawled. "Have a good night." And with that he started walking down the street. Hawke stood left behind, mouth already formed around the perfect comeback he never got a chance to say.

"I'll tell Dog instead, then." He muttered before getting into his car.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Going into the large, open office space always made Hawke feel kind of important. Like Clark Kent or other important, newspaper working sorts. When he first started, he wasn't too good at filtering out the noise of those around him, but now it was all second-nature. Probably what made him good at his job as well. Good at filtering out bullshit.

He dumped down into his seat, leaning back in the soft office chair with a sigh. After listening to the tape and then reading through the transcript, he had typed out most of the interview the night before, caught in a nervous restlessness that made him unable to sleep. Though, knowing himself, he knew he'd have to proof-read it a couple of times before submitting it, lest it was full of colourful descriptions of Fenris, and only Fenris.

Just the thought of his name made something flutter deep in Hawke's gut, a flutter he knew he couldn't dismiss as a pre-lunch peckisness. Was peckisness even a word? He wasn't sure, but he didn't care at the moment. It had been a long time since he had fallen in love. Way too long.

"Hawke. Pondering on the vastness of the universe again?" Varric teased lightly, leaning over Hawke's cluttered desk. "You look about a million light years away."

"Just struggling with the interview," Hawke lied. Except Hawke couldn't lie even if his life depended on it, and Varric smirked at him.

"Uh-huh. _Right_." He gave a conspiratorial wink. "Where's your charming brother this morning?"

"Dunno," Hawke sniffed, trying to push the mass of papers, half-scribbled notes, and _Maker's breath_ , more candy wrappers than he'd care to admit out of the way so he could get to his keyboard. It always seemed kind of surreal talking to Varric in the office. He had the kind of build and style that looked at home in a seedy bar or another setting like it, not in an office like this one.

"Well." Varric knocked his fist on Hawke's desk. "Send him my way when you can."

"Will do."

Varric turned, greeting an intern before making his way to his office. As always when Varric left, Hawke found himself staring at his behind, wondering just how big the crossbow on his butt was, when he really should be wondering why he was stuck out here on the floor, while Varric had his own office.

With a sigh he started booting up the computer, leaning back again with his hands behind his head. The welcome screen greeted him with a generic picture of the magazine's logo. He hadn't been allowed to change it to Dog, or his family or even his favourite brand of candy. _Keep it professional_ , they had said, but Hawke had made a personal compromise, photoshopping Dog's silly mug into the logo. Even when he had a shitty day, her stupid grin made his day better.

At least she did until Carver opened the large double doors far louder than anyone should be allowed to on a Monday morning. Despite the frost in the air, he was wearing another one of his sleeveless shirts, his upper arms bulging as if he'd squeezed a work-out in before arriving. Which, knowing Carver, might very well be true. Hawke lifted a hand lazily as a greeting, which Carver promptly ignored.

"Varric wants to see you," Hawke said as Carver waltzed right past him, while pretending not to hear him.

He had scolded Carver playfully for talking about their mother's uterus, but he was suddenly wondering if there was a way to stuff Carver back up there. Maybe it was worth asking her about it. With a giggle he tried to cover with a cough he opened up the top-drawer of his desk, grabbing a chocolate bar and tearing it open with his teeth. He bit into it while watching Carver dump his duffel bag on the floor by his spotless desk, before leaving for Varric's office.

"I've sent you the pictures from the concert," Carver mumbled in passing, making Hawke choke on a piece of almond, coughing a chunk of it on his monitor. " _Nice,_ " Carver added sourly, before moving out of range for Hawke's raspy reply.

His hands were actually shaking when he went to his email, opening the internal folder and downloading a massive zip-file. For all of Carver's bad sides, his lack of humour, his grumpiness, his aversion to long-sleeved shirts... For all of that, he still had to admire his brother's skill and perfectionism. He already knew the pictures were gonna be good, even before he opened the first shot with a trembling hand.

The first picture showed the crowd. Their hands were raised in the air, smiles wide and earnest. It was a good shot. The smoke machines and shards of bright light made it seem magical, in a way. It totally captured the mood of the night.

The next was of the whole band on stage. His eyes were drawn to Fenris. Of course. He tried to ignore the tumble his stomach did when he studied his face. Fenris had his eyes closed, a streak of light across his hair, the glare making the white hair seem smudged and beautiful. Behind him Anders had his arms raised in the air, doing some sort of trick with his drumsticks, while Tallis had her long neck exposed, leaning back like some sort of rock deity. Seb was leaning down towards the crowd, his brow furrowed in concentration, but a big grin plastered across his face, leaning close, but never close enough to the outstretched arms of his fans. This would have to be the centerpiece for the story.

And then the next picture... It was the picture of Fenris. _The_ picture of Fenris. His eyes were cast to the side, to where Hawke knew he was standing, that small illusive smile caught by Carver's camera. He wanted to kiss Carver. All previous, grumbling thoughts about his brother were gone, replaced by a hopeless thankfulness. He'd actually been able to catch it.

He quickly went over the rest of pictures, choosing nineteen out of the fifty-one before sending them back to Carver with a few notes. It was a roundabout way to do it, seeing as Carver would have to send them to the graphic designers, but Hawke liked having some control over text and image, something Carver seemed to not only abide by, but respect. One of the only things he seemed to respect about his older brother, if Hawke was going to be completely honest.

The shot of Fenris smiling was in the discard-pile, quickly finding its way to Hawke's private online storage. He found a strange sort of possessiveness to the picture. That smile was meant for him, and him only, and there was no way he'd put that in the article. It felt too intimate in a way, and not something random readers should partake in.

After some careful deliberations on whether or not he was being creepy, he quickly saved all the pictures of Fenris before he hurriedly shut everything down, hiding the evidence. Then he opened the text file containing his article, reading through it and correcting it, gnawing on his nails. It took a few re-writes, but it seemed he'd finally managed to hide his school-boy crush, and he quickly sent it off to his editor. Surely she'd let him know if something seemed off. Never stopped her before, at least. At first he'd been thankful, thinking it would just make him a better writer, but now he wondered if she wasn't a bit of an ass, really.

He leaned back again, staring at Meredith's door with a frown. Usually it didn't take her long to go over with her editing tool, fireman red, of course, and send it back, and he decided to give his fingers a rest, munching on the rest of the chocolate bar while he waited instead. After a few minutes of nervous eating, his computer made a soft pinging noise, letting him know he'd gotten an email.

_Good angle, though a little heavy on the backstory. Reorganize the narrative. Not gonna bother sending this to the copy editor, seeing as Danarius' secretary informed me the transcript has not yet been approved - M_

_Fuck_. No, the transcript hadn't been approved by Danarius. He really was out of it today. He'd already transcribed the interview, _thank the Maker for technology,_ but he hadn't sent it over yet. Maybe he'd get away with going there personally. His hand hovered over the print button and before he had a chance to think it through, he hit it.

_Oops. Better go there and make sure the paper isn't wasted._

Ah, he loved making excuses for this kind of thing. He hastily wrote a response, telling Meredith he needed to go down there anyway, and quickly closed it before she had the time to object.

 

* * *

 

"You have an appointment?" Danarius' secretary stared up at him with cold eyes, pausing only briefly before continuing typing with fast, hard clicks of the keyboard keys.

"No, but..." He started, but she quickly dismissed him.

"You'll have to have an appointment." She shook her head and Hawke swore he could almost hear her click her tongue in disapproval.

"I was here the other day for interviews. I was told the transcript needed to be approved before we publish the story. Unless that's confirmation for us to just go ahead..." He let his voice trail off, and as expected her icy eyes quickly snapped back at him. She stared calculatingly at him through narrow lids before lifting the phone next to her. With an irritated push of a button she held it up against her ear, eyes not leaving him.

"Danarius. There's a reporter here. Says he has an interview here for you to approve of." She paused, eyeing him up and down. "Uh-huh. In person. Yes. Yes, I understand." She pulled the phone back from her ear, staring at Hawke. "You can go sit down," she said, nodding to one of the hard leather chairs against the opposite wall.

She didn't speak again after that, her narrow face tight in concentration as she kept tapping keys on the keyboard.

Now that neither of them were speaking, Hawke noticed for the first time the loud ticking of an over-sized clock above the secretary's head. Inside the building he couldn't hear the traffic outside, or even the gentle thumping of the bass from the club downstairs, everything was quiet except the monotonous ticking of the clock and the rhythmic, harsh clicks of her keyboard. He wondered if it was intentional, because the effect was chilling, he slouched down further in his chair feeling more than a little unnerved.

After what felt like hours, but probably was closer to ten minutes, the secretary lifted her phone, staring at Hawke intently.

"Yes. Yes. He's still here. Should I send him through? Very well." She hung up, jutting her chin out and grimacing. "You can go on through. Danarius is downstairs with one of the bands." She hit a button and the door next to her made a buzzing sound.

"Thank you," Hawke mumbled, grabbing his pile of papers as he stood back up. Maybe it had been a bad idea coming here after all, it sure felt like a mistake at the moment.

He opened the heavy door, peering down into a long hallway. It seemed endless, all white tiles and white walls, making it seem more like a hospital or a morgue than a recording studio.

"The elevator is at the end," the secretary added, before going back to typing out whatever it was she was writing.

Hawke thanked her again, before closing the door behind him.

If the waiting room was bad, then this hallway was even worse. It was dead quiet, apart from the clacking his shoes made on the seemingly sterile tiles. On the wall were black and white photographs, in simple black frames. Some were of various bands, some of Danarius shaking hands with seemingly important people, others just of the building itself.

The elevator was on the end, like the secretary had said, and he took it downstairs clutching the papers even harder.

Once he was in the downstairs hallway, however, he let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

The hallway was like the upstairs, white and sterile, but this one had large windows next to the doors, allowing him to see the recording artists as they rehearsed, and he could hear instruments, people talking and even the occasional sound of things falling to the ground and laughter. It no longer felt like a morgue, but something more like a school or something like it. Something _living_ , at any case.

He followed the hallway, glancing through the large windows at the artists. He heard Danarius before he saw him, and not even the softness of his accent could hide the venomous tone in his voice.

"No, no. Fenris, that's all _wrong_. If you can't hit the right notes, then I suggest you go back to selling newspapers or whatever it was you did before."

Hawke ignored the feeling in his chest, part anger and part excitement at even hearing Fenris' name, and walked up to Danarius.

"Oh, Hawke. I didn't see you there." Danarius kept the door open, and behind it the band was taking a break. Fenris looked angry, but his expression smoothed when he heard the mention of Hawke's name.

"I was told the transcript hadn't been approved." Hawke handed the, admittedly almost damp, stack of papers to Danarius, who glanced through them with disinterest.

"And the journalists often do this in person, hmm? Very curious."

Hawke felt a blush creep up his neck, but his voice didn't betray him when he spoke.

"Not usually, no. I have to admit I was hoping to catch the band rehearsing."

"The _band_? Well, here's your chance." Danarius sounded amused, motioning for Hawke to come into the room with him. It was sleekly furnished with two recliners and a sofa in front of several recording booths and a small stage. Danarius chose a recliner, leaning back while he read over the transcript and started adding comments with a pen that looked like it was made of solid gold.

Hawke ignored the recliner next to Danarius, choosing the sofa instead. Tallis gave him a dirty look, but didn't say anything, while Anders grinned. Seb didn't seem to even realize he was there, too busy reading through what had to be the lyrics for their newest song, while Fenris was staring at the floor, his ears red.

"Still not sure about the bridge, but lets try it," Seb finally sighed, and motioned for Anders to start.

Hawke was in awe when they started playing, like he always was, each one of them playing effortlessly together, like the others were merely an extension of their own instrument. Every time Fenris did background vocals, Hawke felt that surge in his stomach, his voice _doing_ things to him.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop," Danarius yelled over the music, and they stopped playing immediately. "Fenris. I've _told_ you. That just won't do!"

Hawke could see Fenris clenching his jaw from where he was sitting.

"What did I do wrong this time?" Fenris sounded eerily calm, despite the anger visible on his face.

"It's _sour_ , Fenris. Perhaps you need to warm your voice up more? Hm?"

"Perhaps I do," Fenris said stiffly, putting his bass guitar on a stand in the corner. "I'll take a break and do that." He didn't look at Hawke when he brushed past him, and Hawke made an effort to not look at Fenris either, feeling Danarius' gaze on him.

"I'm sorry this turned out to be such a bad time to visit," Danarius sighed. "Anyway, I've added my comments, and you can consider the transcript officially approved." He added his signature at the bottom with a wide sweep of his pen, _pretentious of course_ , before handing it back to Hawke.

"Thank you. Hope to see you again." Hawke had to resist the urge to give him a curtsy, nodding briefly to Anders before leaving.

 

* * *

 

Fenris had one leg propped up behind him, leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette between his lips.

Hawke admitted he had thought about trying to find him, but just coming across him like this made his stomach flip again. Some part of him hoped Fenris had gone out here to wait for him.

"Had to get some fresh air," Fenris said, the cigarette smoke seemed impossibly thick in the cold air.

"I hate to break it to you, but I doubt that qualifies as _fresh_ air."

Fenris' face shifted as he gave an almost unnoticeable smile, before his expression went dark again.

"You chose a bad day to come," he finally said, taking one last, harsh drag of his cigarette before crushing under the heel of his boot. "Danarius can be..." His voice trailed off and Hawke resisted the urge to add something nasty at the end of his sentence.

"From where I was standing Tallis was the one hitting sour notes," Hawke finally offered, staring at Fenris through the corner of his eye. "Though that might just be Tallis being a bit _sour_ in general."

Fenris coughed, but Hawke swore he was concealing a laugh. "Don't let her catch you saying that, still... I appreciate the sentiment."

Fenris shifted, looking almost uncomfortable, his eyes locked on Hawke's. He looked like he wanted to say something, but finally he just tensed up and mumbled something about having to back inside.

It was stupid, but every time Fenris left, Hawke got this sense of urgency, like he was never going to see him again, so this time when Fenris brushed past, Hawke reached out and let his hand trail across Fenris' forearm.

"It was nice seeing you again."

Fenris stopped dead, stiffening at the contact. He didn't shrug away, but judging by his body language, he might as well have. Though when he turned to face him, there was no sign of tension on his face. Instead he smiled, tilting his head as he studied Hawke.

"It was nice seeing you too, Hawke. I hope we speak again under... More pleasant circumstances."

"Counting on it," Hawke grinned, and Fenris nodded.

"Then that's settled."

And with one final, lingering glance, Fenris opened the door to the studio and disappeared.

It took everything Hawke had of pride to keep from skipping to his car.

 


	6. Chapter 6

"So, kitten, my dear, my sweet thing." Isabela tossed her arms around his neck before he even opened the door all the way.

"What do you want?" Hawke laughed, but allowed Isabela to kiss his cheek.

"I want a party." She finally detached herself from Hawke's neck, fluttering her eyelashes. "And I want it here."

"Here? Why?"

"Because..." Isabela started, trailing a finger down Hawke's chest. "You have the best chairs. And the best porch. And it's clean here."

Hawke groaned. It might be true that the giant mismatched chairs he had were the best, but truth be told it wasn't all that clean here. And he hated having a bunch of strangers over, and knowing Isabela's usual party crowd, it wouldn't even matter how clean it was beforehand. It would all end in a beer-soaked mess after anyway.

"Is this where I tell you I want to invite Fenris and the rest of Somniari?" Isabela had that look again, that knowing look where you could tell she had something planned. Something she'd never admit to until it was done. She winked at him, pursing her lips.

Damn Isabela and her all-knowing smirk.

"Is this where I agree to everything so you'll finally understand how weak I am?"

"Oh, kitten. I already know." She patted his cheek gently, and sneaked past him into the apartment. " Hey Dog!" Behind him Hawke heard the tell-tale sound of Dog's tail.

 _Traitor._  


* * *

  
In the end he agreed.

Of course he did. He always did, because there was no way he could ever say no to Isabela. Well, apart from that one time she asked if she could make sure he really was gay.

He agreed on one condition though, and he felt almost proud of himself for being able to make it a condition at all, especially since this quite obviously was a badly veiled attempt at getting him and Fenris in the same room. His condition was that she did all the preparations, but leaning back now, staring at the place, he kind of regretting making it a condition at all.

It looked like a brothel. No, brothel was too classy a word for it. It looked like an old western whore house. The wall behind one of the couches was covered in multi-coloured lights he suspected she had gotten from a Christmas discount bin, and the lamps he had around the apartment were covered in red shawls. The result was tacky, but when he asked her about it she just batted his hands away and told him to trust her.

"This way, boys, this way," she purred to three topless men who looked like they lived at the gym. To say they were muscular was an understatement, and Isabela stared at them in a most unsettling way. The heat had sweat trailing down between their shoulder blades as they carried a huge couch between them, and Isabela stared at them like a wolf would a sheep. With Isabela pointing and making directions, they finally wedged it between the the couch and one of the chairs already in the living-room. There was barely any floor space left, but Isabela seemed satisfied as she waved the guys off with a kiss.

"Is Carver and Bethany coming?" She counted the amount of seats available before pulling the old footstool Hawke used to store his mother's scarves in between the two chairs.

"Carver is. Said he simply had to meet the band." Hawke scratched his neck. "Truth be told I kind of ditched him the other two times I met them, and I couldn't really tell him no."

"Naughty..." Isabela mumbled without really looking at him, seemingly counting something internally. "Your stereo is good, right?"

"It's okay." Hawke shrugged. If he was being completely honest he was terrified. Fenris was coming. To his apartment. To the area where his bed was. He swallowed hard, staring at the walls with a growing sense of terror in his chest. He had tried to take down some awkward pictures of him with friends and family, but Isabela had refused, saying it was crucial that Fenris saw them.

One of the framed photograph was the now infamous picture of Hawke in the knitted midriff-sweater, with Isabela on one side sticking her tongue out and Varric on the other side flashing a gang-sign. He glared at it for a while.

"Anders didn't sound too pleased that Fenris was coming." Isabela pushed her hip out and smiled. "Would it be terrible of me to hope for a little drama tonight?"

"Yes!" Hawke snapped, making her laugh. "I don't want to hurt Anders, he's a really nice guy. And really lanky," he added with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you don't have to hurt him you know. Maybe you could ask them both out. Have a bit of adventure in your life for once."

"Yeah, and maybe you'll settle down and have eight kids and a picket fence."

Isabela snorted.

"Did you even see the outside yet? If I don't get you and Fenris kissing out there I'll give up matchmaking forever."

Hawke decided not to comment on her already lack of such, considering she tried to fix him up with Anders. But yeah, he had seen the patio already. She had strung more of the lights around, and somehow managed to get not two, but four large benches around a metal fire-pit. If he didn't know any better he'd say she had planned this for weeks already.

As tacky as he found the inside, he had to admit that the outside looked great, and he found himself daydreaming of him and Fenris sitting around the fire. He'd carefully trail the tattoos along his neck up to his chin, before tilting his head gently up so he could kiss those full lips.

Without meaning to he made a low sound in the back of his throat, which made Isabela snort and laugh.

"I take that's a yes. Oh, kitten. Tonight better be the night you get your..."

"No, stop!" Hawke laughed, interrupting her. "If that sentence ends with anything being _wet_ then don't finish it!"

"Spoilsport."

 

* * *

  
There were people everywhere. He recognized Varric and Merrill, but that was about it. Except Isabela of course, who was dressed like something between a sailor and a prostitute. And she had been right. The apartment looked amazing now that the sun had set. It looked intimate and cozy, not that unlike the coffee shop he'd been to with Fenris.

Except Fenris wasn't there.

The first hour of the party Isabela had offered him consolation, telling him they were still playing a gig and were definitely coming later. Then she got annoyed with him, pointing to the door every time he gave her puppy eyes. So finally he had just gone out like she wanted him to, sitting on one of the benches and staring into the fire-pit. It had gotten cold now that the sun had set, but with the fire it was surprisingly comfortable. Even if that changed the whole place was littered with thick blankets, ready for the taking.

He couldn't see the driveway or the front door like this, but he still knew it was Carver when he heard footsteps behind him.

"You gotta stop wearing that cologne." Hawke took another swig of beer and moved so his brother could sit down next to him. "At least if you still wanna be a ninja."

"I was five, Hawke. Let it go." Carver dumped down next to him, humourless as always. "I thought Somniari was coming? I mean, that's pretty much why I'm here."

"Oh, brother. Keep your compliments for yourself or I might start blushing." The weak shoulder bump Hawke gave him didn't seem to ease his Carver's mood.

"I'm still mad at you, you know. You left me." Carver's face was tense. "You fucking left me."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Somniari _will_ be here. They are just running a little late or something."  
  
They stayed silent, staring into the fire. Isabela really had thought of everything. Below the fire-pit she had stacked a bunch of fire wood, and on the small tables between the benches were small bowls of marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate. Hawke sent a brief thankful thought to Bethany for watching Dog, as the tubby canine surely would have ended up eating all of it, leaving Hawke with a trip to a vet instead of an evening with Fenris.

"So," Hawke started, and Carver looked at him with that annoyed expression he seemed to save especially for his older brother. "Remember when you talked about Danarius and the PR nightmare? I had to sign a document that made me feel like I was gonna interview the pope."

Carved nodded and seemed to relax. "I've heard about the privacy agreements he makes people sign. I think people would refuse if he wasn't so powerful. No one wants to touch the guy."

"Is that kind of thing legal?"

Carver shrugged. "As long as he's not forcing you to sign them, yes."

Hawke frowned and cleared his throat, but didn't have time to speak as a piercing whine came from inside, followed by the sound of a chair being pushed back.

"Seb!"

Isabela, of course.

"Aw, look at you guys, you look great! Anders, you can put the wine in the fridge, that's _so_ thoughtful of you, and Fenris, uh, if you're cold there's a fire-pit outside."

_Oh, Isabela..._

Next to him Carver tensed up, and Hawke felt himself doing the same. He had to admit he had given up on Fenris actually coming, and now he felt an ugly knot form in his stomach. He quickly downed the rest of the beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He suddenly felt too drunk and at the same time not nearly drunk enough.

"Uhh... If you want an introduction I'd go with Isabela. Sounds like she's best friends with 'em already."

Carver didn't need to be told twice. He stood up, hovering awkwardly for a few seconds before walking inside. He swung his legs when he walked, like they were too stiff to work right, and Hawke chuckled a little before going back to staring at the fire.

More than anything he wanted to go back inside and say something to Fenris, but at the same time he was afraid to. And if Isabela was here she'd probably give some advice about letting him come to you, like Fenris was some kind of scared animal. He cracked open another beer. If he had been here alone he'd probably be emptying the nearest bowls, but he knew himself well enough to know that if he crossed that line then Fenris would see him with chocolate and marshmallow all over his beard. Something told him Fenris wasn't quite ready for that just yet.

"Get it together," he mumbled, getting up as well. His legs felt slightly wobbly, but he managed to go back inside without too much trouble. Isabela was already leading Carver around, and he was currently talking to Seb. For once he actually looked animated, it was nice to see, and Hawke spent a few seconds looking at his brother's smiling face. Then he started scanning the room, looking for Fenris in what he hoped was a subtle move.

He was in front of the midriff picture hanging on the wall. Of course he was. Well, at least this gave him an opening.

"Enjoying my wool-y glory?"

_Oh maker, that was terrible._

Fenris turned with a frown, but it smoothed out once he saw it was Hawke.

"I was, actually. You didn't prepare me for the wonder that is this photograph." Fenris turned back towards it, and Hawke studied it again. At least his stomach looked good in the picture. He had worked out a lot that summer, and his stomach looked toned and slim. Not that it didn't anymore, but his once well-defined abdomen had gone slightly... Well, it was still _defined_ , though maybe not well-defined. Whatever. It would be fine. Probably.

"Thank you for inviting me," Fenris mumbled, still turned away from him.

"Uh... I..." It wasn't really true. He hadn't invited him, Isabela had, but...

_Shut up, Hawke. Tell him you invited him._

"It's my pleasure, really. I'm glad to see you."

_Ten points to Gryffindor! Isabela would be proud._

It was definitely the right thing to say because Fenris turned back to him, giving him one of his rare smiles.

"Is this your place?" Fenris looked around, and Hawke got the strange fluttery nervous feeling in his stomach again.

"It is. Though it don't usually look like a whore house. Isabela went a bit overboard."

Fenris chuckled. "I did wonder about the Christmas decorations."

"Oh, those are mine. I was talking about the couch." He waited for a few seconds, enjoying the look of embarrassment spreading across Fenris' face before he laughed. "I'm kidding. The lights are all Isabela. The couch too, I might add."

Fenris opened his mouth to respond when someone came up from behind, putting long, slender arms around Hawke's middle.

"Hey. Wanna show me around?" Anders looked tipsy. The hair he had tied up had come undone slightly, framing his narrow face, and he leaned so close Hawke could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Well, actually..." He turned back to Fenris with a pained expression, but Fenris just shrugged. His face was closed off again, and he started moving away.

_Damn it._

"Never mind Fenris," Anders slurred. "'E's always sulking anyway. Come show me 'round."

Fenris was leaving. So much for flirting.

"Well, there's not really much to show."

"Do it anyway." Anders' hands were still on Hawke's waist, his fingers tightening around him.

Hawke looked at Fenris one last time before agreeing. "Fine. Let me show you the hallway."

 

* * *

 

It took quite the effort to show Anders around. He kept dropping less than subtle hints about Hawke's bedroom, and every time he put his hands on Hawke's waist or chest, he'd always turn to find Fenris looking at them. It was an awkward dance Hawke felt too old for. Or just too tired.

Isabela was nowhere to be found, and he scanned the room desperately for someone else to help him. It wasn't that he didn't like Anders, he did, but obviously not in the same way as the drummer liked him. Right now he just wanted to leave the whole party. The only one to return his looks of desperation was Carver, who gave him a strange sort of look when their eyes met. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but he motioned for him to save him, since Anders had gotten to the point where he had found the midriff picture and was busy trying to pull up his shirt to see if his stomach still looked like that.

"Anders," Hawke said between clenched teeth, trying to pry his hands away. "Have you met my brother, Carver?" Then he pretty much handed Anders over to Carver, and watched as they awkwardly rolled into the nearest couch. They both started laughing, and Hawke could hear Carver ask about the band. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

He kept looking around, but he couldn't find Isabela anywhere, and he couldn't see Seb either. He really hoped he remembered to lock the door to his bedroom, because he didn't really want to change the sheets after all of this. Fenris was looking bored in one of the couches, drinking wine and talking to someone who looked kind of familiar, with scruffy hair in need of a haircut and even scruffier stubble. He'd have to ask Isabela about him the next time he saw her, he didn't want to go over there right at the moment.

There were a definite sense of familiarity between them, but Fenris didn't seem too happy to talk with him, changing between bored indifference and something akin to discomfort. The uncomfortable expression on Fenris' face really had him wanting to interfere, but he decided against it. Instead he tried to catch Fenris' attention. When their eyes met he mouthed _everything okay?_ To which Fenris just nodded slightly, before turning back to the scruffy man next to him.

Hawke didn't know what he expected, but this wasn't it. He stood there for a second before going back outside.

The cold air was a definite improvement from the stuffy air inside, and he sank down on the bench he'd been on earlier.

Isabela had gone out of her way to make sure they met. And talked. And probably kissed. And all he'd managed was to show Fenris an old picture of himself. Hell, worse than that. He'd just caught Fenris looking at it and said like two sentences. All he wanted was to talk to the guy. He really was pathetic.

 _Listen to you. You've said his name like five times in your head already._ Hawke rested his head on his forearm, and groaned pitifully.

"Not feeling well?"

To anyone watching it must have seemed like Fenris stuck needles in Hawke's back, because Hawke flew up like he was in pain.

The look of concern on Fenris' face was unmistakable. Hawke couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing at the moment, because he just looked so good. His hair was ruffled, and the hair that had fallen in his eyes moved with each blink. It was endearing, and Hawke just wanted to reach over and move it gently out of his eyes.

That's when he realized Fenris was still waiting for an answer, his look of concern slowly morphing into confusion.

"No, I'm fine, I just... Too many people in there." Hawke sat back down.

Fenris smiled a little, nodding.

"I agree. Much nicer out here." Then he sat down next to Hawke. The fire illuminated his face, the warm glow of the fire somehow making his eyes appear almost black. "So if this is your apartment, then where is Dog?"

He really shouldn't be so excited that Fenris remembered her name. It wasn't like it was a hard thing to do. But his heart still sped up.

"With my sister. She gets too excited around new people and new foods." He tilted his head in the direction of the food set around the tables.

"Ah," Fenris said, and then they sat in silence. Behind them the party seemed to have stepped up a few notches, the bass was pounding and people were laughing loudly. Next to him Fenris had his hands on his knees. His position seemed relaxed enough, but his fingers dug into the fabric of his pants like claws, his thighs shaking.

"How did the show go?"

"Hm? Oh. It went well, I think." Fenris let out a shivering sigh.

Hawke suddenly felt especially bold, and reached a hand out and put it on Fenris' arm. Truth be told, he halfway expected Fenris to be cold. Maybe he just hoped for an excuse to wrap a blanket around the both of them, but Fenris felt almost feverish.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm just tired. Can't seem to sleep right." Fenris didn't move away from his touch, but wrapped his hand over Hawke's instead, squeezing it gently. They sat like that for a second, Hawke's heart beating so hard in his chest he almost felt lightheaded. Then he turned his hand around so their fingers could lace together and he wondered if Fenris could hear his heart thumping from where he was sitting. If he did, he didn't let it show, instead he started moving his thumb in a slow circle on Hawke's hand, and Hawke had to pull himself together not to groan. Instead they sat in silence for a minute.

It might have been the situation, or it might have been the beer, but Hawke suddenly felt more than a little bold, turning his body so he was facing Fenris. Fenris had his head down, his hair covering his face. His breathing was shallow and rapid, matching Hawke's and he paused, unsure if he should continue or not.

"Hawke..." Fenris started, tightening his grip on his. Hawke looked down at their hands, how slender Fenris' tattooed fingers looked compared to his own. When he raised his head back up the smaller man was already looking at him, eyes clouded and dark. They spent a few seconds just looking at each other before Hawke moved his hand gently to Fenris' neck. He had fantasized about this.

Reality was better.

The tattoos were slightly raised, which surprised him, but he enjoyed the way they felt, following the curve up to Fenris chin. Fenris was still shivering, and he closed his eyes when Hawke slowly traced the outline of his lower lip.

He felt like he should say something, anything, but instead he just leaned in, carefully, moving his hand gently to Fenris' cheek.  
  
For the briefest of moments he paused, their lips so close he could breathe in the same air as Fenris. Hawke looked at him. Fenris' eyes were hooded and focused on Hawke's lips, his own parted slightly, his breathing faster than before. Then Fenris closed the distance between them.

Fenris' lips were soft. That was the only thing that seem to register at first. That and the thought that he was finally kissing him. Everything else seemed to fade away. If Hawke had to use romantic cliches, and he totally did, he'd say the kiss stopped the world from turning. He'd say the whole world paused for just a moment.

Then Fenris did a low sound of pleasure and Hawke pulled him closer, putting the other hand on his waist, surging back into reality. Except reality was nothing but Fenris' lips, his breath, his hands pulling on his shirt.

And then time caught up with them. Fenris pulled away, putting his slender hands on Hawke's chest to push him away.

"I- I'm sorry." Fenris gasped. "I can't. This is too- I can't." His face was flushed, eyes still half-lidded, but the hands resting on Hawke's chest were firm.

Hawke's brain started scanning for the moment it might have gone wrong, or the right thing to say. Maker, anything he might say.

"Was it the lack of the midriff sweater?"

_That's not the right thing to say._

Fenris pulled back, getting back on his feet. He was shaking, his hands almost missing its mark when he tried to get his hair out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. This is just going too fast. I have to go."

Hawke followed him into the apartment, through the living room and into the hallway.

"Fenris-" he started, but Fenris didn't turn to look at him.

He didn't have a jacket on. Nothing but the thin sweater he showed up in. Hawke already knew that Fenris was warm, but he also knew the weather outside was brutal now that the sun had set.

"Fenris, just hold on, okay? Don't move. Please."

Fenris did an almost unnoticeable nod, but it was enough. Hawke rushed into the living room, almost pushing the person on the old footstool off as he hurriedly tried to find what he was looking for.

Then he did and he ran back into the hallway, holding a giant ball of red wool.

"It's cold out. Please."

Fenris didn't say anything, just stood silently, his head bowed again. Hawke moved slowly, wrapping the badly knitted scarf around Fenris neck.

"I'm sorry for moving too fast for you."

Fenris looked up at him then, his green eyes wide. Then he lowered his gaze to the scarf, fingering it gently before turning. He paused before he left, his hand hesitantly hovering over the doorknob. Then his shoulders slumped and he finally opened it and disappeared into the night.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Hawke woke up the next day with a killer headache.

After Fenris left he'd just wanted to be alone, but he had gotten carried away when Varric and the others wanted him along for a game of Wicked Grace, and he had just swallowed anything the others offered him. Which explained why he now felt like someone was playing drums inside his eyeballs.

He rolled over and groaned.

At least he didn't kiss Fenris and chase the poor guy off.

_Oh wait..._

Hawke buried his head under his pillow.

If it wasn't for the fact that at least five people were probably sleeping in his living room he'd consider just hibernating. As it were, he knew he had to get up sooner or later, so he finally tossed the pillow back and got up.

His naked chest had crude drawings all over, and he rubbed at the markings with a frown. When he got his hands on Isabela... The discarded shirt from yesterday would have to do, though it stank of stale beer and Velveeta.

_Gross._

He quickly changed his mind and grabbed a handful of fresh clothes before carefully opening the bedroom door, peeking out into the living room. The place looked like shit. But so far the only people he could see was Isabela, Carver and... Anders.

Carver and Anders were comfortably wrapped around each other, like they had fallen asleep mid-sentence.

He stood quietly for a while, looking at them. If either of them had woken up they'd probably be a little creeped out, but Hawke couldn't stop looking at his baby brother. In sleep, with Anders next to him, he looked happy. It warmed his heart, though that might also be the heartburn he was currently sporting.

Tearing himself away, he carefully wrapped a blanket around Isabela, seeing as she undoubtedly had to be cold in the outfit she was currently wearing. His plan was a quick shower, then he would figure shit out.

 

* * *

 

Hawke's idea of "figuring shit out" was apparently to shower and change as quickly and quietly as a thief, running away from the mess left over from the party, and escaping to the coffee house he'd been to with Fenris.

If it wasn't so cheesy, he'd probably go there with sunglasses on. Not just because he didn't want to talk to anyone, but because his head was still pounding despite the Tylenol he had been chewing like candy. But it was a cold, overcast day and the coffee shop was blissfully dark anyhow.

There was someone else working there today, not the nervous looking woman from the visit with Fenris, and he ordered a cup of tea and a slice of toast. Coffee and muffins wouldn't sit well this time.

He wondered where Fenris lived. And how creepy it would be if he tried to find out. Or if he found out and just showed up. Probably very creepy.

_Definitely very creepy._

Hawke pulled his phone out, pretending to read something or answering e-mails or whatever when people came into the coffee shop. He wanted to be alone. Or at least he wanted to be alone at first, but as he watched couples and groups of friends gather together, laughing and joking, he realized he needed a friend as well. Without thinking it through he dialed the first number that came to mind.

 

* * *

 

"Hawke. What seems to be the problem?"

Good ol' no-nonsense Aveline.

He mumbled something as she sat down, studying her face a little. She looked happier than she had in a long time, though she still had that stubborn look in her eyes, her strong jaw as firmly set as ever.

"How are you and Donnic doing?" Her eyes immediately softened at the sound of her husbands name. It was a beautiful thing to see. When he first met Aveline she was a young widow, far too young, in fact, and her situation had left her bitter and cynical. Well, to be honest she was still a bit of a cynic, but at least she seemed happy now.

"We're doing well," she smiled, taking a sip of the coffee Hawke already ordered for her. "I guess I haven't thanked you guys properly for introducing us." Then her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to keep from the subject at hand, Hawke? I don't think you called about an emergency to ask me about Donnic."

"You're too astute for your own good, Aveline," Hawke sighed, sinking back in his chair so he could draw shapes in the sugar he had spilled without having to look at her. "I met someone."

"Yes. Varric told me as much. Apparently this guy's nickname is "broody"? I'm guessing that's not a reference to his ability to produce eggs?"

Aveline had this remarkable ability to say things with a completely straight face. There wasn't a quirk to her mouth or even the slightest tilt to her eyebrow. She made it almost sound like a sincere inquiry. Hawke laughed.

"Well, I sure hope not," he paused. "Well, he _is_ broody. I can't figure him out. We kissed yesterday-" Hawke started, ignoring when Aveline clapped her hands together. "... And then he ran off. Saying things were going too fast."

Aveline clicked her tongue. "Oh, Hawke. When will you learn to not pursue the emotionally unavailable guys?"

"Probably when you learn how to style your hair," Hawke deadpanned, stretching out to snatch the headband she never seemed to leave the house without.

"I'd pretend to be hurt, but we both know I don't really care about my hair." Aveline barely even looked amused. "You know why you wanted me here, Garrett."

_Garrett. Maker, this must be serious for Aveline to use my name like that._

"Because you're my only adult friend?"

"That, and you know I'd never bullshit you," she said mildly, patting his hand. "You're my friend and I love you, and I don't want to see you in another relationship like the one you had."

Aveline refused to say "Mr. Dick". Hawke hated hearing his real name though, so she just called him "It" or just avoided mentions of a name altogether.

"Isabela told me he's quite a looker. But do you really want to sacrifice your sanity based purely on physical attraction?"

"It's not that. Have you ever looked at someone and just... 'The world changed'?" He laughed at himself. Aveline must think him a romantic fool. But when he looked at her she had a strangely mild, melancholic look in her eyes.

"I did. Once. With Wesley." Aveline looked down. "It's not that I don't love Donnic. I love him more than I thought possible after what happened. But with Wesley... One look and I was sold." She laughed wistfully and looked at Hawke. "Varric would kill me for saying this, but if your broody man is anything like Wesley, then-" she paused. "Then I say go for it."

Hawke smiled. "Thank you Aveline."

 

* * *

 

The places he'd seen Fenris were few. Black Emporium. The coffee house. Hawke's apartment. With his lightening fast deduction skills, he assessed that Fenris wasn't at his apartment or the coffee house, seeing as Hawke had just left the place. So Black Emporium it was.

His car was still back home. He hadn't thought about bringing it the short distance to the coffee house, and truth be told he probably had no business behind the wheel anyway. He still felt a little drunk, mixed with both nerves and a hangover.

So he walked.

Every other time he'd come here, he'd taken his car and parked in the guest parking in the back. Coming in from the front gave a very different first impression.

The building itself was fairly nondescript. From what Hawke knew about the building's past, which admittedly wasn't a whole lot, it used to be a meat packing plant. From the inside the thick bricks made for a lot of interesting features, like the big windowsills, but from the outside it looked pretty much like any other industrial style warehouse.

Well, apart from the fact that Black Emporium was the most popular spot in town, with live music and bartenders more than willing to slack on age limits. For Danarius it must be pretty lucrative. He hadn't liked it when Hawke started asking questions about the place. Apparently he'd gotten it cheap in the early 90's, and quickly made it quite the entrepreneurial endeavor with the club, the recording studio and the big rooms upstairs people could rent for receptions and such. He'd heard rumors that he also lived on the top floor, but he didn't want to imagine him being there at all. The way he had stared at Hawke had left quite the impression. It wasn't that Hawke was afraid of him, but something in those eyes told him Danarius definitely wasn't someone to mess around with. The fact that every building in this part of town had either peeling paint or graffiti, except this building, kind of upheld the idea. No one seemed to dare touch Black Emporium or Danarius.

He didn't know what he would say to Fenris when and if he found him, but he opened the door down to the club anyway. It was still early in the day, and the people already at the bar were mostly employees, but he could see a few people seated in some of the comfortable leather couches in the back.

No Fenris though.

Hawke didn't let that discourage him. The only way to access the recording studio was through Danarius' front desk, but he didn't want him or his creepy secretary to know he was snooping around. Instead he casually walked up to the bar where a young man wiped fingermarks off the counter.

"Excuse me, do you know if Fenris is around?"

The man shot him a quick glance before continuing.

"Haven't seen him today, sorry. What do you want with him?"

"Nothing, I..." Hawke resisted the urge to tell the guy to mind his own business. "I borrowed something from him."

The man shrugged and turned, clearly done with the conversation.

 _Well, so much for that._ Hawke went back outside, and decided to take a cab back home.

Luckily for him, a lot of cabs seemed to circle the area. Unluckily for him, he got the chattiest taxi driver on this side of the country. For the most part Hawke just wanted to curse his own bad luck. He had been so sure that he would actually find Fenris there. Some act of fate or something. Instead he nodded politely and made a huff or a hum whenever it was appropriate in whatever story the taxi driver was telling until he was back home. He paid him, throwing in a little extra for his sick puppy or mother or whatever it was. Then he breathed deeply as he started walking towards his own complex. Even if they hadn't cleaned up their mess or anything, he still hoped the others were gone. He was in serious need of a little chocolate therapy. With any luck there would still be leftover s'mores.

That thought quickly disappeared when he reached his front porch and realized Fenris was sitting there.

"Fenris?"

Fenris' head snapped up when he heard Hawke's voice and he quickly got back up from where he was seated. The indecisiveness he had shown last night was gone, replaced by something akin to anger, and he walked up to Hawke.

"I can't stop thinking about you." His voice was hoarse, and he stared up at Hawke with dark eyes. "I've tried, but I can't."

"I was looking for you."

"And I was here waiting for you."

They stared at each other for a moment before Fenris moved forward, crushing Hawke's lips with his own. There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed him, not like last night. He pushed Hawke up against the opposite wall, groaning against his lips as Hawke tried to reciprocate.

"Inside," Fenris growled. "Now."

Hawke groaned as Fenris pushed against him, almost dropping his keys as he tried to fish them out of his pocket. His hands were actually shaking when he tried to pair the key with the keyhole. Fenris didn't move, but heat radiated off him in waves, making him tremble even further.

When the door was unlocked they both sort of half-stumbled into the hallway, kissing fervently. Once inside Hawke pushed Fenris to the wall, catching the faint look of surprise on Fenris' face before he covered his lips with his own. Now that Hawke had him pinned, Fenris went still in his arms, whimpering softly against Hawke's lips.

He was so expressive. And so responsive. Hawke trailed a hand down his waist, following the curve of his hip bone before resting his thumb near the crease of Fenris' thigh, the other gently caressing his throat. Fenris groaned and jolted against him, every movement shooting straight to Hawke's groin. He didn't think he'd wanted anyone or anything more than he wanted Fenris in that moment.

Hawke pulled away enough for him to be able to look at the smaller man, taking in all the details of his face. Everything from the full curve of his lips to the tired lines around his eyes. Then he started unbuttoning Fenris' shirt slowly, enjoying each patch of naked, tattooed skin as it was revealed. He brushed a hand carefully over his chest, following the lines gently.

"What are you doing?"

Hawke looked up, surprised by the expression on Fenris' face.

"You're beautiful, Fenris," he murmured, and Fenris made a surprised sound before Hawke kissed him again, gently this time. It felt like the flaming-hot desire had burned out, replaced by a long, slow ache of _need_. Hawke _needed_ Fenris. He needed every inch of him. And he wanted to take his time doing it.

Hawke could feel Fenris' face heat up under his lips as he kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. Leaving feathery kisses down his neck and across collar bones and soft skin. More than anything he wanted to just stay there in the hallway, but he also wanted Fenris in his bed.

"Do you wanna take this to the bedroom?"

Fenris stiffened in his arms again, but after a brief pause he nodded softly.

They moved slowly into the bedroom, their kisses heating back up again. Fenris seemed more at ease when he was in control so Hawke let him, surprised at how desperately Fenris tore at his clothing. He held his wrists gently, making the smaller man slow down.

"Let me see you," Hawke mumbled against Fenris lips, slipping the shirt off his slender shoulders. The white tattoos seemed almost luminescent in the dimly lit room, and he followed them with his fingers again. He caught a glimpse of them trailing further down into his pants before the view was obstructed by Fenris pulling the sweater over his head.

Then the clothing was discarded and Fenris stared at his broad chest, trailing a hand carefully across his shoulder and down his arm. Everything seemed so immediate. He had no idea how the touch of an arm could surpass everything he had done sexually in the past, but it did.

He pulled Fenris in, feeling his smooth skin against his own, feeling Fenris jolt in his arms again as their hips ground together. Fenris' hands moved between them, fumbling with Hawke's belt, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down.

He pushed Hawke down on the bed and started removing his own pants. There was still a strange sort of look on his face, but he stripped with ease and crawled into bed with him, snaking his way between Hawke's legs.

At first he just rolled his hips against Hawke' groin, biting his neck and murmuring something Hawke couldn't understand. Hawke's head was actually swimming. Even if he somehow could find the words, he wasn't sure they would mean anything once they passed his lips.

Fenris started kissing his neck, moving slower, his tongue trailing a lazy line down the contours of his chest. Hawke tried to grab Fenris hands, the other man suddenly felt so far away, but Fenris just pinned his wrists to the bed, continuing down his abdomen.

Then things moved very fast as Fenris pulled down Hawke's underwear, positioning himself over him.

"W-Wait. What are you doing?" Hawke sat up and Fenris sank back on his heels, his eyebrows knotted together.

"What do you mean?" Fenris blinked. "Is this not what you want?"

"Fenris..." Hawke put both his hands on Fenris' face, trailing his thumbs along his cheekbones. Fenris' eyes seemed cut off again, and he stared stiffly at something behind Hawke's shoulder. "I do want that, but not like this."

Truth was he'd probably do pretty much anything to sleep with Fenris, but the thought of skipping everything else, not to mention going in without any sort of lubrication... He shook his head. "Not like this."

He pulled Fenris down with him, folding his arms around the smaller man's body, kissing his lips gently. Fenris started relaxing in his arms, and Hawke moved down slightly, kissing his neck and shoulder.

"You're beautiful," he repeated, kissing down his chest and abdomen. Fenris' chest was heaving, eyes pressed firmly together in pleasure as Hawke licked his hip.

Before, due to their positions and the half-darkness in the room he hadn't really been able to catch a lot of details, but he drank them all in now. The tattoos snaked down his narrow hips, some extending up the shaft of his penis, others trailing down his legs. He touched them carefully. They must have hurt.

Nothing seemed to hurt now. Fenris was squirming under him, fingers curling in his hair when Hawke leaned down to lick the tender skin of his inner thigh, moving slowly up along the crease of his hip until he finally reached the sensitive flesh of his groin.

He was smooth all over, like he had taken great care in removing every trace of body hair, and Hawke stroked thoughtfully across the silky skin. Somehow he had a hard time imagining Fenris waxing, and he hoped that wouldn't mean he was opposed to Hawke's body, in all its natural glory.

Fenris tightened his fingers in Hawke's hair, bringing Hawke back to the business at hand, so to speak. He licked tentatively along one of the tattoos, following it up the length of Fenris' cock, and the effect was immediate. Fenris bucked under him, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Hawke felt braver then, moving his tongue in a lazy circle around the head of it, moving further down once he got the skin slick enough. He loved how responsive Fenris was, each lick and kiss made him squirm and moan under him.

"I love the way you taste," Hawke murmured against him, before taking him in deeper. As soon as he did, Fenris made a quiet, breathy sound, his voice husky when he moaned Hawke's name. Admittedly it had been a while, but Hawke figured it must be like riding a bike, at least judging from Fenris' reaction.

It was interesting, and very sexy, to see what Fenris reacted to. His breaths seemed to quicken when Hawke moved his tongue side to side along the underside of his glans, and if he kneaded his balls gently he was rewarded with the sound of his name. Hawke loved to experiment, loved seeing what turned him on.

"Hawke...!" Fenris warned and tensed up under him, fingers clenching almost painfully in his hair when Hawke took him in deeper, but Hawke didn't stop. He increased the pace, wrapping his hand around the base of his dick, pumping it up and down along with the movements of his mouth and tongue.

Then he moved his free hand up, holding on across Fenris' hip as he bucked and came in his mouth.

He swallowed, doing a few licks mostly just to tease Fenris' overly sensitive flesh before kissing his belly and moving up beside him. He was still painfully hard, but moved Fenris' hands away when he tried to touch him. He wasn't quite sure why, but something about Fenris' reaction earlier bothered him, and he'd prefer to keep this night about Fenris only.

Fenris still had his eyes shut, eyebrows knotted tightly, but he found Hawke's hands and clutched them hard, interlacing their fingers when Hawke kissed his damp forehead. If he could say anything right now, he'd try to put into words how happy he was to have Fenris in his arms, but when Fenris turned and put his head against Hawke's neck he realized he might not need to say a single word.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

The light filtered through the blinds, casting dancing lights and shadows across their bodies. Hawke had to admit he halfway expected Fenris to have disappeared during the night, but he was still there, curled up in Hawke's arms. He nuzzled his nose in Fenris' hair, before leaning down to place a kiss on his shoulder. The other man made a sleepy noise, but didn't wake up.

In this position he couldn't really see much of his face, but he studied the white tattoos on Fenris' back, and the way his soft, white hair fell against his neck. He didn't want to wake him, but he couldn't deny the urge he had to touch him. The tattoos felt strange to the touch. Not like they were a part of his skin at all. More like scars than actual tattoos. He had noticed it by the fire-pit, but it seemed more noticeable in the morning light. He traced them gently, wondering if it was intentional or not.

Fenris looked smaller without clothes on. He was all strong, lean muscle, but thin.  
  
_Too thin,_ Hawke decided, climbing carefully out of bed. He paused for a brief moment, looking back at Fenris' face before going out into the living room.

Isabela had cleaned up some. Hawke refused to believe that Carver had done anything like that without being specifically nagged first, so his thankful thoughts were directed Isabela's way. The horrendous Christmas lights were still up, but all the empty bottles and cigarette butts were gone from the table.

He opened the fridge once he got into the kitchen, staring at the contents with a frown. After careful consideration, totally not purely based on the contents of the fridge, he started making breakfast.

Bethany had always complimented him on his grilled cheeses. He didn't have the heart to tell her it was mostly due to unhealthy amounts of butter and cheese, like everything else he liked. He added whatever else he found in the fridge, some leftover bacon, some tomato, some onion, and by the end the whole kitchen was smelling nice. He hoped Fenris wouldn't look too closely at the tray he was gonna use, because it was one his mom had made him in her "creative phase", featuring pictures of all of them in various situations glued and glazed onto the wood. He positioned the two mugs of coffee over the picture of him at seven years old in the tub with his butt to the camera. Fenris definitely wasn't ready for that.

After a quick look at the tray he added a few small bars of chocolate left over from last night. Breakfast-dessert never hurt anyone.

Once he was headed back to the bedroom he started getting nervous again. He didn't really know what Fenris wanted. Hawke hadn't had any personal experiences with one night stands apart from stories from friends, namely Isabela, and from what little he did know, most people preferred to keep it very casual in the morning. He'd heard more than one story from Isabela where she complained about guys staying the night or trying anything more.

He hovered outside the bedroom door.

Well, even if Fenris didn't want anything more, then breakfast in bed was pretty non-threatening, right? Hawke had made his mom breakfast in bed at times. Yes. Nothing wrong with breakfast in bed. He opened the door with his shoulder, trying desperately to will the flush in his cheeks away.

Fenris was awake, laying on his back with his hair fanned out around his head.  
  
"Hey," Hawke said softly, smiling that goofy side-grin that his sister always said made him look ten years old again.

"Hi," Fenris smiled, and for once he seemed completely relaxed. Not like he wanted to be somewhere else at all.

"I made grilled cheese," Hawke mumbled, stating the obvious. "I didn't want to wake you, and well... Everyone likes grilled cheese, right?" He carefully got under the covers with Fenris again, positioning the tray on their thighs.

"You made breakfast?" Fenris looked surprised.

"Yup." He pushed Fenris' plate closer to him, and got himself one of the steaming mugs of coffee. He tried to stealthily pop one of the chocolate bars in the coffee without Fenris noticing, but when he glanced back over, Fenris was chuckling into his own mug. Hawke smiled while he took a sip of his now deliciously chocolate-flavoured drink, watching Fenris as he carefully cut a piece of grilled cheese and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly. Then he groaned.

"This... Might be the best thing I've ever eaten." Fenris took another bite. "No... Definitely the best thing I've ever eaten."

"Then you gotta try my porterhouse steak one day." Hawke tried to say it casually, like _sure, all my friends come over for that_ , but it came out a little strangled.

"I'd like that." When Hawke looked at him, Fenris had that soft look in his eyes again, but his expression had shifted, his previous energy changed into something else. "I'd like that very much, Hawke." And at that moment Hawke didn't care if it had been a one night thing or something more, he leaned over and kissed Fenris anyway.

"Mmm... Chocolate-y." Fenris teased when Hawke pulled away, but he still leaned back in, kissing Hawke once more. "I could get used to that."

"Then you ought to marry me, I suppose."

 _Shit._ This wasn't the kind of thing you joked about, was it?

Fenris chuckled and coughed a little, taking another sip of his coffee. Hawke swore his ears looked red again.

"I... Have to go back to the rest of the band soon. Rehearsals," Fenris said, taking another bite of the sandwich. "But I'd very much like to see you again, Hawke."

_I love the way he says my name._

"Performing next weekend?"

"Aren't we always?" Fenris sounded tired again, and his hands was shaking as he raised his cup of coffee up to his lips.

Hawke took one of his tattooed hands and kissed his knuckles gently. "Not always," he whispered, and the sudden strained look on Fenris' face melted away.

"No, not always," Fenris echoed, and touched Hawke's cheek softly. "But right now it is. I'm sorry." He started pushing the tray over on Hawke's lap, but stopped mid-way.

"Wait, is that your...?"

"Does it still look the same since you're able to recognize it?" Hawke laughed and tried to bat his hands away as Fenris pulled the tray back. "No, stop it!"

But Fenris had already yanked the tray out of his hands, and was quickly darting out of bed while balancing mugs and plates and silverware, still completely naked.

"You look ridiculous!" Hawke cried, laughing so hard his stomach hurt. Fenris was all long limbs as he tried not to break everything, putting the dirty dishes on Hawke's desk with urgency, before sinking down on his knees on the floor.

"I couldn't quite picture you without facial hair," he said slowly, brushing his hand over one of the photographs. "I imagined you having it as a child as well. Like a little baby mustache"

"You imagine me as a child often?" Hawke teased, patting the bed. "Come back, it's cold out there."

Fenris moved back under the covers, still cradling the tray. "I have thought about it."

He stared at the photographs, and Hawke rested his chin on Fenris' shoulder so he could look as well.

"That's my mother," he said, pointing to Leandra. "This is Bethany, my baby sister. And Carver you've already met."

"What about your father?" Fenris probably felt Hawke tense up behind him, because he quickly added an apology.

"No, it's okay. He died when I was younger. My mother didn't think it right that we used his face as a coaster." He laughed. "Guess it was okay to use us kids though."  
  
Fenris put the tray gently on Hawke's nightstand and turned to Hawke. "I'm sorry." He leaned awkwardly against Hawke in a gesture Hawke realized was the attempts of a hug.

"It's okay," Hawke mumbled against Fenris' hair, but he still pulled him closer. Their bodies already felt familiar together, moving naturally into comfortable positions.  
  
"I really have to go though." Fenris grimaced. "We're releasing an album soon, and they'll kill me if I keep... I'm sorry."

He got out of bed, calmly this time and dressed quickly. Hawke knew it probably wasn't the end or anything dramatic like that, especially not with how things were going, but he still felt strangely melancholic as he followed Fenris to the door.  
  
They both struggled a bit for words and in the end they just kissed longingly before Fenris had to go.

 

* * *

 

Hawke felt great.

No, Hawke felt fantastic. If he wasn't so tall and broad he'd be skipping as he walked to his sibling's apartment building. Skipping was something he felt like doing often, lately.  
  
They lived right down the hall from each other, and sometimes he was envious of how close the two were. Or rather, how close Carver was with Bethany. Hawke and Bethany got along splendidly, unlike Hawke and Carver. He couldn't even figure out why Carver was so angry and sullen all the time. Still, he supposed he should go say hello to him as well.

So instead of going straight to his sister's apartment, he stopped at his brother's, ringing the doorbell.

No answer.

He rang it again, waiting about ten seconds before moving down to Bethany's door. As soon as he rang her doorbell he heard Dog bark excitedly. Oddly enough she'd always bark when she was around other people, but she rarely, if ever, barked at the door back home. So much for a trusty guard dog.

Bethany opened the door, grinning when she studied his face. "You're in love."

No 'hello', no nothing. She cut straight to the chase.

"What? How do you know?" Hawke got the sudden terrifying thought that people could actually see when you'd been sexual with someone, like his best friend in fourth grade had claimed.

"Because I remember that look and I was hoping I'd see it again before we both died." Bethany's voice was mild, but she still stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oh, shush. You're my little sister, you're not allowed to make me feel like an old spinster. That's Isabela's job."

They both laughed, and when they thought they were done they turned to see Dog slinking down the hallway, making sad puppy dog eyes while her tail wagged so excitedly that her whole bottom swung back and forth, setting them off again.  
  
It was a good day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What makes me sad about this is that I've totally had breakfast dessert more than once in my life X)
> 
> Also thank you all so much for comments and kudos :) That really means a lot to me.


	9. Chapter 9

It was more than just a good day, it turned out to be a pretty good week as well. He hadn't had a chance to see Fenris in person yet, but they texted back and forth every day. Hawke found himself with his phone in hand at all times, not that dissimilar from love-struck teenage girls. Fenris sent him a few pictures of the band rehearsing, though none of himself. When Hawke asked why, he just said he didn't like having his picture taken, which was fair enough. He still drank in every detail of a life that was vastly different from his own. Saw late nights where they were leaned over scribbles and crumpled up papers when they wrote their new songs, and early mornings where they had fallen asleep on their instruments.

Unlike Fenris, Hawke was quite used to having his own picture taken, so he sent an embarrassing amount of them to Fenris. None where he actually tried to look good, but silly ones where he tried to brighten Fenris' mood when it seemed he was having a rough day. And finally, after an especially embarrassing photo where Hawke tried to recreate the infamous butt-picture from the tray, Fenris sent the first one of himself. It must have been the first selfie he had ever taken, because he looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, but smiling.

Hawke set it as a background picture on his phone.

The whole gang had agreed to meet up at Black Emporium the following Friday, to see Somniari play. They even got Aveline and Donnic along. Hawke had a sneaking suspicion it was all for his benefit, and in his current love-drunk state of mind he just wanted to bake them all cakes and hold them tightly. Oh, and tell them all he loved them.

The only person he hadn't heard anything from was Carver, and according to Bethany she hadn't either. He wasn't too concerned. Carver liked to do this every now and then, sulking about something Hawke wasn't even aware of. But despite Carver’s disappearing act, his life was pretty damn good.

He didn't even think he'd have a chance to see Fenris before the concert, so when the doorbell rang he assumed it was Isabela, or maybe Aveline, but when he opened the door Fenris was leaned nonchalantly to the side of his entryway, his pose relaxed, but something strange in his eyes that Hawke couldn't quite decipher.

"Hey! Didn't think I'd see you again so soon." Hawke couldn't stop the grin that started spreading on his face.

"Well, I'm here," Fenris said stiffly, but his eyes seemed to soften when Hawke smiled.

A sudden outburst of desperate yelps and thumps behind them had them turning to the hallway, seeing Dog crab-walk towards them with sad eyes.

"Oh, Fenris. Meet Dog."

Fenris stared at her. "Is she okay?" He couldn’t quite hide his concern for the creature as she moved towards them. Classic mistake.

"Kneel down," Hawke instructed, and took a step to the side when Fenris did.

Dog immediately started bolting, ramming Fenris so hard he fell back on his ass with the seventy-five pound dog on top of him, all tail and tongue. Hawke counted slowly to five before grabbing Dog's collar, hoisting her off Fenris with a grin.

"Venhedis!" Fenris exclaimed. "I thought she was dying!"

"Nah. She's just a damn good faker. You’re not her first victim."

To prove his point, Dog went limp in his grip, staring at Fenris with big, sad eyes.

"I can't stand those eyes, Hawke. You have to let her go."

"Your funeral," Hawke laughed, releasing Dog on Fenris once again.

 

* * *

 

Once Fenris was sitting in his couch, Hawke realized how utterly exhausted he looked. The lines around his eyes were etched deeper, his mouth a frown and his eyes almost dull when he wasn't actively trying to fake a smile. Hawke didn't comment on it, simply handing him a cup of hot chocolate before sitting down next to him.

Fenris stared at his cup, a tired smile gracing his lips. "I don't think I've had a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows since I was a kid." He took a trying sip, closing his eyes in contentment. "This is really nice."

Dog had finally calmed down, lying by their feet, quiet sans the slow, satisfied thumping of her tail. They stayed silent, sipping the warm liquid with their free hands gently touching.

"About the other night," Fenris started, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of leaving during the night."

"I'm glad you didn't. It was nice waking up with you."

Fenris looked up at him, that gentle confusion crossing his features again, before he leaned against Hawke's shoulder, allowing him to put his arms around him. There was something stiff and awkward about his posture, but he seemed to relax more once Hawke pulled him closer.

"I gotta say I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss you right now." Hawke nudged the side of Fenris' head with his nose. "I guess that makes us both either really honest or really bad at lying."

Fenris groaned.

"That is the worst pick up line I've ever heard." But he still moved his face up to Hawke's, kissing Hawke softly. Just being able to kiss Fenris like this made Hawke's head swim.

"I think this is where I make a confession," Hawke mumbled, and he could feel Fenris tense back up in his arms. "The night I met you, I- Ah, I don't know how to tell you, but I don't know anything about bass guitars!" He mocked-sobbed and covered his eyes with his hand, and although he couldn't see Fenris, he heard him chuckle and felt him relax again.

"I thought you were gonna tell me something really bad now."

Hawke peeked at him through his fingers. "So you don't mind the fact that we have to tell our grandchildren a totally different story now?"

_Shit, Hawke. Stop it with the marriage jokes already._

"I think it's better this way," Fenris said after a small pause, and the smile on his face seemed genuine this time.

 

* * *

 

Black Emporium was packed, as usual, the front part of the floor already full of sweaty people dancing to the opening band and Hawke saw more than one person spilling beer on the already sticky floor. They had exchanged glances before quickly agreeing to stay in the corner booth. They all knew Aveline wouldn't be coerced into joining them on the floor in front of the stage anyway, even without the sweat and the beer, and they would still be able to see a decent amount from their position. Aveline looked uncomfortable, very much out of her element, but Donnic seemed happy enough. He chatted heartily with Varric and Isabela, while Merrill and Bethany exchanged recipes for vegan waffles, of all things.

Hawke leaned back, content just sipping his beer, listening to his friends chat and look at the crowd. He felt damn proud of Fenris. He still remembered their conversation at the coffee shop, and he tried to imagine a sixteen year old Fenris getting signed up and starting a career. How many people didn't set out with a dream like that, only to be disappointed? But Fenris had somehow made it. Realistically he knew they weren't all here for Fenris, but in his head they might as well be.

The murmur of the crowd turned into screams of excitement as the band got on stage.

"So which one's yours, Hawke?" Aveline yelled in his ear, but before he could answer, Merrill chimed in.

"It's the one with the tattoos! Handsome, isn't he?"

Hawke saw Fenris scan the crowd onstage, and he raised his hand to catch Fenris' attention before the lights made it impossible for him to see. Fenris gave the faintest of smiles, one that might not have been a smile at all if you didn't know him, but his gaze lingered. Behind him Anders tried to get Hawke's attention as well, waving when their eyes finally met. He tried to ignore Aveline and Isabela as they burst out in a fit of giggles behind him.

"So which one is it? The drummer or the bassist? Both?" Aveline snickered into her beer, choking on it as Hawke shot an elbow in her side, but when he tried to do a comeback, the music started and the roar of the crowd tuned out everything else.

 

* * *

 

"That was amazing. Just amazing." Donnic seemed very animated, probably due to a few too many drinks, but Hawke appreciated it none the less.

"I'll have to agree," Aveline said mildly, putting a hand on Hawke's arm. "And Merrill is right. He is good looking," She paused. "A little too skinny and anemic for my taste, but I could see the way he looked at you."

Hawke huffed, but couldn't hide a smile. "You say that now. He said he'd be out here soon, and you'll see he's far from anemic." He found it hard to sit still, all he wanted was for Fenris to be around his friends, and for him to meet Aveline at last. They might not always see eye-to-eye, but he very much appreciated her dry humour and clear-cut sense of justice. Good person all around, really, apart from the general snark. "Actually, I'm gonna go look for him."

It wasn't too easy getting through the mass of people, but he managed to zigzag through them as best he could, once again enjoying the perks of being tall. Thankfully he could use the press card to gain entry to the backstage area. He'd already warned Fenris he was going to, so he didn't feel too bad sneaking his way in there. Fenris had even said he preferred it that way. He hated crowds.

Walking down the hall, he heard them before he saw them. Seb's laugh was a dead give-away. The band was gathered in the backstage dressing room, taking turns on a large bottle of whiskey. Well, everyone besides Fenris. Seb had two girls on his lap, both of which giggled and rubbed his chest.

“What can I say girls,” he grinned, “I’m a gift from the Maker.”

Hawke was about to say something, but Seb’s comment made him do an awkward cough-groan instead, which got Anders' attention.

"Hawke!" Anders stood up, ruffling a hand through his hair. "How are you doing? I didn't get the chance to talk to you after the party, I- Uh. Fell asleep."

"I saw," Hawke smiled, but Anders didn't return it. "You were great out there. You all were."

Anders rubbed his neck, but didn't say anything at first.

"So... Where's Fenris? I need to talk to him." He pretended not to see the change on Anders' face.

"He's around." Anders leaned his hip against the couch with a frown. "Try looking in the break room down the hall or something."

Hawke nodded and started heading out, but before he could, Anders grabbed his elbow.

"I know it's not my place, but are you really sure about him? I could tell you some stories."

There was something desperate in the way he spoke. In the way he held on to Hawke's arm.

"I'm sure we all have stories," he answered mildly, patting Anders' hand. "I appreciate your concern though." He didn't really, but the look on Anders' face was a sad one, and he didn't have it in him to make it sadder.

"Yeah, well..." Anders let go of his arm, but stared at him as he started walking away.

Truth be told, he was sorry about all of this. He liked Anders. Liked him a lot. But not in the way Anders seemed to want Hawke to like him. If he was gonna be completely honest he probably would have been interested if Fenris hadn't been there. But he was. And that was that.

Hawke hadn't been to any break room in the past, and the long hallways were the same as the ones upstairs, nondescript and covered in doors. Some had signs on them, informing him of bathrooms and offices within, others were blank. He didn't want to risk barging in on people changing or anything like that, so he just followed the hallway, staring at the signs to see if he could find the right room.

That's when he heard Fenris' voice. It was low, strained, like he was having an uncomfortable conversation, and Hawke slowed down unconsciously.

"I'm not your _slave,_ " Fenris sneered, and the anger in his voice caught Hawke by surprise. "You can't expect me to keep doing this, I have-" Then his voice got muffled and replaced by a weak whimper.

He didn't want to turn the corner, but he did. In hindsight he should have known. Nothing good had ever come from sneaking up on the love interest in any book or movie. Yet he wasn't ready for what he did see.

Fenris was pinned against the wall, though pinned might be the wrong word. He wasn't held in place by anything or anyone, but it seemed like he might as well be, like he was forced to the spot with invisible chains. Danarius was leaned up close, covering Fenris' mouth with his own, and Fenris struggled against him without really struggling. That was the only way Hawke knew to explain it. His body language seemed to say one thing, his actions another, because it looked like he was kissing back, but he seemed stiff and strange, like he wanted to get away.

"Shh, my pet," Danarius cooed as he pulled away. "You know you belong here with me."

"I don't." But this time Fenris' voice was unsure, lacking the strength from before. "I can't do this anymore, I-"

That was all he managed to say before Danarius pressed his thigh between Fenris’ legs, making him jolt and squirm against it, his lips parting to let out a groan. Even from where Hawke was standing he could see the look on Fenris' face, lids half-lidded and eyebrows cinched together. In that moment Hawke was back in his apartment, his hands on Fenris' hips. The jolting, the squirming, the groaning. The look of tortured bliss on Fenris' face. Those had belonged to the two of them. Not this man, not these two strangers. Because for the first time he realized that he didn't know Fenris at all.

Hawke felt sick. More than that, he felt like a fool. Some primitive part of his brain started pulsing sickly, and he moved forward without thinking it through, striding forward and digging his hand into Danarius' shoulder, yanking him back from Fenris. He moved between them, his fist connecting to Danarius' face with a crunch, making the older man stagger backwards. Fenris' eyes seemed too big for his face when Hawke looked back at him, his pupils blown wide, and he stared at Hawke with a strange mixture of relief and terror. Hawke didn't have time to say anything, because Danarius turned back to face him, covering his nose as his look of confusion morphed to one of recognition.

"Bad idea, Garrett Hawke," Danarius spat, his hand held tightly over his nose which was bleeding profoundly. "You want to lose your job? For what? A washed up plaything like Fenris here?"

"He isn't a plaything," Hawke scowled. "You keep your filthy hands off of him."

Danarius just flashed bloody teeth at him in an attempt at a grin, though it was more a grimace than an actual smile.

"What do you say, little wolf?"

They both turned to Fenris. All the colour had drained from his face, and he looked ashen and shaken. His eyes kept darting back and forth between them before they finally settled on Hawke.

"I don't want you losing your job over someone like me, Hawke. You should leave. We'll talk later."

Danarius had a repulsive look of triumph on his face when Hawke turned to look at him, though how he managed that with half his face covered in blood Hawke didn't know.

"Well said, my pet. I think you better go now, Hawke."

Hawke turned to Fenris when he spoke next. "I don't think so."

Fenris' expression smoothed out and softened when Hawke took his hand.

"At least not alone."

"Oh..." Danarius said, his smile widening to something truly unsettling. "So that's what this is. Reaping the benefits of my extensive _training_ , are we?"

He tried to ignore Danarius' laughter as he pulled Fenris along with him.

"You can try, but in the end he always comes back to me, you best remember that, Garrett Hawke!" He called after them.

"Fuck off!" Hawke sneered, and steered Fenris towards the back-entrance.

 

* * *

 

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?"

They were in the same parking lot as the first time they were alone together, though the vibe was different this time around. Fenris had his back to the wall, his skinny chest rising and falling quickly. There was no anger in him. No passion.

"What has he been doing to you, Fenris?" Hawke stepped up closer, trying to touch him, but Fenris winced away from his hand, hugging himself.

"What did you do?!" Fenris made a strangled sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "You're gonna lose your job. Danarius is powerful. He'll break you."

"Let him fucking try," Hawke growled. "Now earlier you said we would talk, so let's talk." He walked towards his car, and behind him he could hear Fenris follow.

"Hawke."

"No. We have to talk about this."

It was a good thing Hawke hadn't had a drop to drink, because he would be driving home no matter what. He got into his car, slamming the door shut, trying not to look at Fenris as he slid into the seat next to him. He seemed small again.

"Here," Hawke said, tossing his phone in Fenris' lap. "Tell Varric or Isabela I've left. Make up some excuse."

He completely forgot about the background picture he had on his phone until he realized Fenris was staring at it.

"Is this who you think I am?" He whispered softly. "What you think we have?"

"Well, up to about half an hour ago I thought we had something special." Hawke took a long shuddering breath. "Now I'm not so sure anymore."

"What is it you want from me, Hawke?" Fenris' voice was more like a snarl now. "Haven't you realized by now that I cannot give it to you?"

Hawke didn't answer, instead tightening his grip on the steering wheel, clenching his jaws desperately. How could things go so wrong, so fast? What was it Aveline had said? Emotionally unavailable? Hawke was so set in this pattern of falling for people that were all wrong. Which in turn made _him_ all wrong. And he couldn't seem to break that pattern either. He had the chance to with Anders. He saw Anders' face in his mind. His shy glances and gentle smiles.

_Are you really sure about him? I could tell you some stories._

He cast a glance at Fenris, who was staring stiffly out the window, his thin arms covering his chest. The notion of any stories that might make him question their budding relationship had seemed ridiculous then, but now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't so sure he wanted to know those stories either, because Danarius' implications had been disturbing to say the least.

"What did Danarius mean when he said he had given you extensive training?"

Fenris flinched.

"That is not something I wish to discuss."

"Listen, I don't mind people having open relationships, or date more than one person or have casual relationships or whatever, but that isn't who I am or what I want." Hawke parked the car, leaning his head back on the headrest and shutting his eyes tightly. "Maybe I should have made that clear from the start."

"That isn't what I want," Fenris mumbled, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it. Normally Hawke hated people smoking in his car, but this time he just opened the car window without a word. "That isn't who I am either."

There was no fight left in Hawke. He just felt tired. Next to him it looked like Fenris felt the same way, his shoulders were sagging and his head bowed so far down that it almost touched the cigarette in his hand. He couldn't just leave it at that though. He wanted answers. Needed them.

"What about what Danarius said? Will you go back to him?" Hawke closed his eyes, afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know," Fenris finally admitted after a moment's silence. "It's not that simple. I wish I could explain it to you."

"You'd prefer to be his plaything to anything I might have to offer you?"

The effect on Fenris was immediate, his head snapped in Hawke’s direction, his eyes glassy like he had a fever.

"Vishante kaffas!" He barked. "You're insulting me so much and you don't even realize it!"

"Then _tell_ me! How can I understand you when you won't let me in?!" When Hawke tried to breathe, it came out a strangled sob. He felt so completely alone. "What can I do, Fenris? Tell me!"

He tried to ignore the look of utter devastation on Fenris' face while he spoke, tried to ignore the moment when the light seemed to dim in his eyes.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Fenris was out of the car before Hawke had a chance to stop him, tossing his cigarette butt aside and walking hurriedly out of sight. Hawke did not follow him, his strong fists tightened so hard his short nails dug into the palm of his hand. It felt wrong. It felt so wrong.

But he let him go.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special and warm thanks to bookandkettle for helping me and generally just being a sweetheart. Thank you <3

* * *

 

Bethany didn't say anything.

That was a huge reason why Hawke had called her, to be honest. She knew him well enough to be silent when he needed her to. They sat curled up in his couch like when they were children, sharing a blanket and watching shitty old sci-fi's on TV while enjoying their shameful childhood favourite of dunking popcorn in their hot chocolate until the drink was nothing but a fatty layer of salt.

She probably knew, but she stayed quiet and so did Hawke.

He couldn't wrap his head around what had happened, and what he’d seen. He tried not to focus on the mental images he had of Danarius kissing Fenris, because it made him feel ill. But to Hawke, the biggest riddle was still why Fenris had left, because he hadn’t seemed happy about it. For the first time he realized Fenris hadn’t really seemed happy at all in the times they’d known each other, apart from a few moments where the world had just been the two of them. Hawke cursed Danarius for being right about Fenris going back to him, because that was perhaps the biggest slap in the face of the whole evening.

He looked down, meeting Dog’s eyes. She seemed to know, like she always did when he wasn’t feeling well. She had her big head rested on his lap, staring up at him with her big eyes. He absentmindedly stroked her with one hand, eating popcorn with the other.

"You think that could happen?" Bethany whispered, bringing Hawke out of his depressing train of thought, covering her face with a pillow.

Hawke chuckled.

"Which part? The aliens or the giant black hole threatening to swallow the planet?"

"The black hole," she shrieked, as she tried to lure Dog over to her lap with a piece of popcorn, although Dog didn't budge.

"Don't worry. I read once that if a black hole came, we probably wouldn't even notice it." Hawke leaned over and patted her shoulder with his popcorn-greased hand. "Unless we did and we'd be stretched like spaghetti and torn to shreds."

"Oh brother..." Bethany groaned, hiding her face again.

"That's me."

It was easy to seem cheerful around Bethany. When their father died, Hawke had sort of taken over. Leandra had been an empty shell for a while after his death. For the most part she sat by the big windows overlooking the gardens, lost in a world that the three children were unable to enter. She wasn't negligent. Not really. But she had scared Carver and Bethany. They were too young to understand.

Hawke understood. And for a few months Hawke had been the one to pack their lunches, follow them to school and listen to them chatting about how their day had been. He didn't mind it; in fact he preferred it. It was easy to forget his own problems like that. When their mother finally snapped out of it, it was too late. Hawke had gone from the carefree older brother who would shoo his younger siblings out of his room to someone who felt responsible for them. Hawke preferred this version of himself.

The movie had ended without him even noticing, and next to him Bethany stretched.

"Gotta get up early in the morning, brother, but I had fun." She ruffled his hair gently, her smile just a fraction more tender than normal. "Call me if you need anything, yeah?"

"I will." He tried to get Dog off, but she just moved further onto his leg.

"No worries. I'll let myself out."

"Thank you," Hawke said as he caught her hand and squeezed it gently. "I mean it."

They both knew he meant more than just closing the door behind her or watch shitty movies together.

"Anytime, Hawke," she said softly, and gave his hand a comforting pat. She held it for a second longer, before finally leaving. When Hawke heard the soft click of the lock shutting, he sank down further in the couch, leaning his head back.

He realized he hadn't heard from Varric or Isabela since he left a good five hours ago. He didn't know what Bethany had told them, but they had stayed quiet. He realized he didn't know what Fenris had written them either, and he fished his phone out of his pocket to look at it.

When he unlocked it, he was greeted by Fenris' face: that cute, shy and very uncomfortable smile that still made Hawke's stomach jump a little. He wondered briefly if he should change it right away and save himself the heartache later, but decided against it, opening the messages with a slight frown. Fenris had written Isabela earlier, and it was a short message:

_"Anders was right."_

That was all it said, and Isabela hadn't responded to it. Hawke stared at it in confusion. When Anders had warned him they had been alone. It had just been Hawke, and the others in the band hadn't overheard it. So how did Fenris know? He put the phone down; it wasn't like it mattered anyway.

"Whaddya say Dog? Should we head on to bed?"

Dog looked up at him, flicking her ears gently before laying her head back on her paws, refusing to budge.

"Alright, old girl."

It wasn't like this would be his first night sleeping on the couch anyway.

 

* * *

 

Light shone in through the living room curtains in what seemed like a deliberate aim for his eyes, and he squinted against it. For a few blissful seconds it was as if yesterday hadn’t happened at all, before the light reminded him of the morning with Fenris in his bed, and his heart sank like a stone.

He fumbled for his phone, and it took two tries before his hand managed the lock pattern, again being greeted by Fenris’ face, and he was suddenly thankful he hadn’t deleted it the night before. He couldn’t leave it like this, couldn’t leave Fenris or let him leave without at least trying. Dog lifted her head to stare at him as he tried singing a few sour notes to get the sleep out of his voice, before he dialed Fenris’ number.

What he got was a pre-recorded message letting him know the phone was turned off, and he stared at the screen before ending the call. Then he let his hand fall, staring at the ceiling instead.

At the moment he wasn’t worried about Fenris going back to Danarius, or what was going on between them, but whether or not Fenris was okay at all, and he swung his legs down to the floor, startling Dog in the process, before a plan had even formed.

_Apartment, coffee house, Black Emporium._

He repeated the words like a mantra. All the places he knew Fenris to be.

Hawke didn’t bother getting a fresh change of clothes, just pulled his boots back on and patted Dog’s head before leaving the apartment.

This time he had the clarity of mind to take the car, driving a bit too fast for comfort to the small coffee house. He parked in an almost sideways fashion outside, and forced himself to take a few deep gulps of air before entering.

Despite the brightness of the day outside, the inside was dim, the thick wooden blinds filtering out most of the light. For a moment he was almost blind, and he blinked in an effort to adjust to the dark room. If he had been a self-conscious person he’d probably worry about the impression he must be giving: wrinkled clothing, bushy hair and eyes that watered with effort, but he didn’t care.

Once the light around him settled, he ignored the look of concern from the barista, scanning the large room with eyes that still ached. Had it ever worked out coming here in the past? Had Fenris ever been here apart from that one time they were together? Hawke knew the answer and exited the shop without even bothering to buy a coffee to go to cover up some of the strangeness.

The truth was that he already knew where Fenris was, but he didn’t want to go to the Black Emporium. He didn’t even know if he’d be allowed back in. Hawke stared at the coffee shop’s red brick wall through his windshield without even looking at it. He knew he had to go back there. Even if that meant the risk of running into Danarius. Even if it meant being tossed out, ignored or worse, Fenris shutting him out more than he already had.

He started the car up, taking another deep breath before backing out of the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

The facade seemed dead, empty, abandoned. He really ran out of fancy words for it when he stared at it.

There were no sounds, no bass, no sound of cheering. Even the windows were dark, staring at him blindly, and he, in turn, stared blindly back.

Was he a coward? He felt like one. He sat in his car, eyes glued to the window where he’d seen Fenris that first time. He half-way regretted throwing away the self-help audio-books his group of friends had all chipped in on when Mr. Dick left him. He could use the dull, monotone voice telling him he could do it, if for nothing else, then for the motivation of getting out the car.

Despite his gloomy mood, the thought made him smile, and he unbuckled his belt before he had the chance to reconsider, opening the car door with the same kind of feeling he usually got in a roller-coaster, his heart nestling somewhere right under his collarbone.

“You can do it,” He mumbled to himself, mostly just to drown out the dull thrumming of his pulse in his ears. “You once ate a shrimp sandwich in jail. You can do anything.”

The parking lot was oddly empty, but he didn’t let that discourage him, though he felt a little unsure if he should go to the main doors or one of the many side entrances. Probably less suspicious if he went for the main ones, but it didn’t take him more than a few steps to realize how dark the place was. It really did look deserted.

“Hawke?”

Hawke turned towards the sound of his name, relieved when he recognized Anders coming out one of the side doors with a handful of heavy looking cases.

Anders seemed pleased to see him, and he brushed a few strands of golden hair that had escaped his ponytail out of his eyes. “Are you working today?”

Hawke stared at him in dumbfounded surprise, and Anders caught on, a slight blush creeping up his neck.

“Oh,” Anders finally said, frowning. “Of course. I just thought-” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Is he here?” Hawke asked, feeling too tired to be polite.

“No. I haven’t seen him. We’re getting ready for a tour and the whole place is empty. I feel like I’m stuck in a bad horror movie.” Anders gave another one of those gentle little smiles, and Hawke wondered again why he couldn’t have fallen in love with Anders instead.

“Anything I can help with?” Hawke did a slight nod towards the metal cases by the door.

“Well, uh-” Anders squirmed, the blush returning full force. “I actually-”

That’s as far as he got before the door behind them got kicked open and a familiar voice boomed. “You okay, babe? I got the rest of them, but I-” Carver wiped sweat off his brow when he turned around, his shocked expression no doubt matching Hawke’s.

“Carver?” Hawke tried very hard not to make the surprise too apparent, but failed, because Carver’s face immediately puckered up in that familiar sour way.

“Hawke. What are you doing here?” He scowled.

“I- Uh. I-” Hawke fumbled, wanting to comment on Carver’s use of the word _babe_ more than anything else. In a way he should thank them both, because Fenris was nowhere near his thoughts at present. “I needed to- Well, not so much need as want, you know, but I guess that’s how the saying goes, right? Anyway, I wanted to-Uh.” Hawke giggled. He actually _giggled_ , and he suppressed the need to slap a hand over his mouth.

_Maker’s breath, Hawke. Shut up._

Carver and Anders seemed frozen in place, staring at Hawke with what looked like equal parts confusion and worry.

“We’ve-” Anders started, talking a step closer to Carver. “You’ve had a lot of stuff going on, we figured-”

Carver cut him off. “No use telling people with you in the spotlight.”

Anders gave Carver a shove with his elbow, to which Carver just hissed and rubbed his arm.

“Well, it’s true! Can’t get a damn word in whenever I meet any of the others. It’s always _oh, poor Hawke! Fenris this and Fenris that!_ ”

Hawke felt like he had to physically force his mouth shut, eyes darting from Anders to Carver.

“So you, and… _You_?”

“Brilliantly put, brother.” Carver rolled his eyes and put an arm possessively around Anders’ waist. “But yes.”

Hawke felt the blush on his throat this time. He’d been so caught up in his fantasies where Anders was in love with him, that he hadn’t stopped to consider that Anders had moved on from their first meeting. Carver would have loved knowing that part, he was sure.

“So that’s why we haven’t gotten a hold of you,” Hawke finally breathed.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d notice,” Carver mumbled, making both Anders and Hawke scoff in mild indignation.

“Of course. Bethany was worried about you.”

No point in bringing up the fact that Hawke had thought it was another one of Carver’s weekly periods of sulking.

“Well.” Carver hosted the metal cases up. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you both during one of mom’s dinners soon. I want her to meet Anders anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Hawke said, still a little confused, just staring as Carver gave Anders a quick kiss before carrying more than half the cases over to an open van.

Hawke could see him struggling a little bit, arms bulging in the mandatory sleeveless shirt he was wearing.

“Hawke.” Anders cast a quick look Carver’s way before continuing. “I honestly think you’d be better off, like I said-”

“I know, Anders. I just can’t. Not right now.”

Anders nodded once, face a stony mask, before he smiled, patted Hawke’s arm and started following Carver to the van parked near the entrance.

Hawke stared after them for a second before turning back to the building. Anders would know better than anyone if the building was empty, and the last thing he needed was for Aveline to come bail him out of jail again. Something told him Danarius would be more than happy to get him charged with breaking and entering or something like that.

A lost cause, then, and Hawke sighed before heading back to his car. Maybe the best thing would be to let it go, now. He opened the car door, and sank into the seat, leaning his arms on the steering wheel.

So much had changed in the past fifteen minutes, too much, but one thing hadn’t. He still didn’t want to listen to what Anders had to say about Fenris.

Not because he didn’t want to hear it, but because, for the first time, he worried that Anders might be right.

 


	11. Chapter 11

It had been seventeen days since he last saw Fenris. Seventeen days and far too many chocolate cakes, chocolate cookies and chocolate muffins.

He had to remind himself not to call him again. Not to show up at his shows. He probably wouldn’t be able to gain access to Black Emporium again, but it wasn’t like he’d really wanted to check. Because, most importantly, he tried to remind himself that if Fenris wanted or needed him, then Fenris would come to him.

It was a hard lesson. He had somehow imagined, or at least hoped, that Fenris would come back. If not the first night, then the following. But he didn't come.

Another one for the books, right there. Garrett Hawke: an utter failure at love and relationships. He didn't even take Isabela's less-than-serious suggestions about trying to lure some random stranger into his bed.

At least he was going out today. Varric had invited him for a game of Wicked Grace down at The Hanged Man, the dingiest bar around. Right now Hawke couldn't remember why they chose that place as their regular bar, but he bet it had something to do with their college years and cheap beer. He didn't have time to ponder on it any further because he heard honking outside the apartment.

He gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror, just scoffing at his hair. It had gotten longer than he liked, and he kept having to brush it away from his eyes. He hoped Varric wouldn't use nail scissors to trim it later tonight.

When he leaned down to place a kiss on Dog's head, she quickly took advantage of his position, lifting her head so Hawke gave her a kiss on the mouth instead. He rubbed his lips off with the back of his hand with a grimace. He should be getting used to this, she loved to do it, yet he always fell for it. She gave him that wounded look again when he stared sternly at her, and he just couldn’t scold her for it.

"Have a nice evening, Dog," he said instead, rubbing her head affectionately before locking the door behind him.

Varric, Isabela and Merrill were all peering out through the car windows when he finally got out, and Hawke got a sudden uneasy feeling looking at them. They kinda had the same look as when they had dared him to join a dancing competition. Now, much to their initial horror and later delight, he'd learned more than a few disco moves from Leandra, so he brought home a golden statue of a man dancing with the "Champion of Kirkwall" inscribed at the base. They never let him forget it, but in a way, he considered himself the victor of that prank more than they ever were.

He opened up the car door, uncertain if he should enter or not.

"What's going on?" He said slowly, staring at their all-too-innocent faces.

"What? Nothing? Ready to get your ass handed to you?" Varric said, uncharacteristically somber.

Hawke paused for another second before getting in.

"Is this when we put the child-locks on?" Merrill asked innocently, and Hawke immediately dove for the doors. He tried to open it just as Varric and Isabela slammed some buttons from the front seat, and Hawke cursed as he jiggled the handle uselessly.

"What? What's this? Where are we going?" Hawke groaned. "Please don't tell me we're going to the border again, Aveline barely got us out last time."

"I didn't lie when I said we were going to a bar, my friend," Varric smiled, doing a smooth curve out of Hawke's driveway. "I just lied about the name."

"Then where...?"

"The Bone Pit," Isabela interrupted. "And now, kitten, don't be upset, but something needs to change, okay?"

Hawke tensed his shoulders, holding on to the car seat in front of him with his hands. He was more than a little worried about what they were planning this time.

 

* * *

 

The Bone Pit was in an area dubbed _Darktown_ , a particularly nasty part of Lowtown. For the most part it contained nothing but large mazes of gloomy apartment buildings, commonly referred to as the Alienage, low income housing that seemed to cause more problems than it solved. Merrill lived here, though she always disagreed when they tried to get her out of the area. “It isn’t so bad,” she’d chirp, and inside her brightly lit and cozy apartment, you might get the feeling it wasn’t.

The Alienage was one thing, the narrow tunnels under them something else entirely. The initial plan was a subway station connecting Lowtown to Hightown, but demonstrations in Hightown had put a stop to it, fearing the crime would spread. The end result was an underground maze with makeshift homes, abandoned tunnels and, of course, The Bone Pit. The reputation of the area just added to the appeal of the place, at least to the people who were too young to remember the crime and the bloody, often deadly, demonstrations against it: in short, everything that happened before it got “hip”. Hawke frowned as he stared out at the looming concrete towers through the window, a stark contrast to the Hightown house he grew up in, even his apartment in the better part of Lowtown.

The Bone Pit was situated right where the main hall of the subway station was supposed to be; its grand, curved ceiling giving the place great acoustics. Despite the shabbiness of the area, a lot of bands fought over the right to play here, due to the cult following of the place. Varric parked in the large, brightly lit parking lot next to the stairway down, the only place around with any real security measures against theft. The Bone Pit had a reputation to uphold, after all. They crossed the parking lot and descended into the darkness, feeling the bass more than they heard it.

He hadn't been to The Bone Pit since he was around eighteen and he suddenly remembered why. The place was packed to the brim with young, _energetic_ people. In fact Hawke and his group of friends were one of the few to get a stamp on their hand, showing they were old enough to drink.

"Why are we here?" Hawke rubbed at the stamp on his hand, showing crossing bones over a deep hole. A bone pit. Clever. Or, you know, _not._

Actually the imagery was kind of fitting, giving the location. They tried to discourage people from exploring the abandoned tunnels, not just because of the people living there, and the amount of crime, but because of the toxic fumes from the factory buildings around the area. More than once he’d read headlines of kids being found dead in the tunnels. He scratched the stamp. Seemed wrong to turn it into a gimmick.

"Come on." Isabela threw an arm around Hawke’s waist, giving him a pained look.

He was about to ask her what that look was about, because Isabela took everything with a solid dose of self-deprecating humour, when he suddenly realized why they were here. He had been an idiot not to realize before.

Around him people started shouting as the lights dimmed and a familiar smoke and light show started up in front of them.

"No, no, no, no..." Hawke started, but the others already had their arms around him, pushing him forward.

"I'm sorry, Hawke, but this is necessary." Varric was stronger than his short stature suggested, his arms locked like a vice around Hawke's.

"Fine!" Hawke yelled over the excited commotion around them, throwing his arms up to dislodge their grip on him. "But not up front!"

He couldn't bear to even think about locking eyes with Fenris in a place like this, though at the same time his heart was thumping against his ribs like a rabid animal just from the prospect of seeing him again. These conflicting emotions made things even more distressing when Fenris _did_ come out on stage.

He had lost weight. Weight he already was in desperate need to keep. His bad posture even worse as he staggered to his spot, barefoot, his feet dirty like he had walked around in mud. Hawke quickly glanced behind him, and the others saw something in his eyes that made them lose their hold on him. They knew he wouldn't leave. Not with Fenris looking like a haggard ghost up on stage.

"What's wrong with him?" He yelled, but the others just raised their hands up and shook their heads. Except they probably did know, judging by the text Fenris had sent Isabela.

He looked back on stage, at Fenris that almost looked like he was falling asleep, to Anders, who kept glaring at Fenris with a perpetual frown, to the other two that seemed oblivious to their bass player's declining health.

Fenris had to be sick. There was no other explanation; at least none he wanted to think about. Hawke started making his way closer to the stage, but for every step he took he started regretting it. Fenris looked awful. It had to run deeper than he initially thought.

The others played well, and for the most part they managed to cover up for Fenris. During the first song they waited for him to sing during the chorus, but when he didn't they just kind of moved on, Tallis providing background vocals instead.

Hawke often watched movies just to laugh at the corny coincidences and turns of fate they provided. They never felt real. He couldn't tell if this moment felt unreal or more real than anything else in his life. Things seemed to pause when he moved up closer to the stage, staring up at Fenris' face. His eyes were closed, his face ashen. And then that song came on again, the song Hawke considered _their_ song, or at least Fenris' song. And this time, when the chorus came, Fenris opened his eyes and saw him.

_I saw you, I saw you, I saw you._

Tallis sang the words, but in his head Fenris was singing them, and they were back at that first moment, before it all went wrong. In front of him it seemed like Fenris' thoughts went a similar route. There was a strange glimmer of sympathy there, and he smiled. It was a tired, faltering thing, but the sight was enough for Hawke. It felt like that first time, him standing rigid and alone in a room of pulsing bodies, Fenris above him, inaccessible and beautiful. Beautiful even now.

Then the moment passed, and the recognition in Fenris' face faded, giving room to something almost akin to shame. And he was standing in the light for everyone to see: the harsh shadows around his eyes, the white tattoos that barely contrasted with his skin anymore. He was naked up there, and Hawke suddenly understood the shame.

Hawke knew Fenris didn't want him there. It was written all over his face, and Hawke understood. It felt like he had forced himself into something personal, something not meant for him at all. All he knew how to do was smile at him: not a goofy smile this time, but something sad and sincere. Because what could be said in that moment? Nothing. And Fenris understood that too. He turned and walked away, allowing Fenris to keep what he needed to keep for himself. The others didn't stop him this time, just let him walk outside alone, head bowed.

 

* * *

 

The car ride home was quiet. He wasn't angry with them, he understood why they had taken him there: understood their motivations and wishes. He just wasn't sure if he'd prefer not knowing. Perhaps they thought that seeing Fenris broken like that would motivate him to seek Fenris out again, but the truth was that he didn't know how.

Instead he just watched as the towering slums gave way to the safer, more spaced out streets and buildings of his neighbourhood. Even his own apartment building, with the empty pool and desolate park benches, looked upbeat compared to the place they had left behind.

Varric parked and turned to give Hawke a pat on his shoulder. “Sorry about this, Hawke.”

Hawke didn’t answer, instead he scooted over to the door, but changed his mind and turned back around. “Isabela,” he started, but she was already getting out of her seat.

“I know,” she said, fiddling nervously with the gold bangles around her wrist. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” She turned to Varric. “I’ll see you later, yeah? And have a good night kitten.” She kissed Merrill’s cheek before shutting the car door.

A light rain had started during the ride home, and they both ran for the door, waving back at Varric and Merrill before the car disappeared down the road.

They shook off their jackets in the hallway, giving Dog the attention she so desperately craved before going into the kitchen.

Hawke briefly considered making tea, but opted instead for strongly brewed coffee with a hit of strong liquor. It was probably bad for him to inject caffeine in his system at this hour, but at the moment he didn’t even care. Neither did Isabela, it seemed, because she accepted the steaming cup without hesitation. Then again, when did she ever decline anything that contained alcohol?

“A few weeks back I was backstage to talk to Seb,” she started, smacking Hawke’s hand before he could say anything. “But he wasn’t there. Anders was,” she sighed, “and Fenris.”

Hawke didn’t say anything, just sipped the scalding liquid without a word. He had made a decision that it was time to face the music, so to speak, although he already regretted it.

“They were screaming at each other, Anders saying Fenris owed you the truth. Fenris telling him to mind his own damn business. Let me tell you, he was scary. Remind me never to get on Fenris’ bad side.”

Hawke thought about Fenris, his small frame and bad posture, but at the same time he knew Fenris kept a fire inside. He believed it when Isabela said he was imposing.

“Anders is… I haven’t known him for long, but he’s an honest guy. And I’ve seen the way Fenris looks at you, I just couldn’t believe it, and then I got that text, and I knew. I just-” she paused, wrapping her own slender hand around Hawke’s. “I’m sorry.”

“What did Anders say?”

_I could tell you some stories._

Isabela shot him another pained look before answering. “That you deserved to know about Fenris living with Danarius, as his-” She paused, her right eye twitching a little.“pet.”

Hawke flinched. That word again.

“When you didn’t come back after looking for Fenris, and then that message-” she squeezed his hand tighter, “I pretty much guessed what was going on.”

They sat in silence, the rain gaining intensity outside the window. _Maybe the pool will finally fill up for once_ , Hawke thought, smiling ruefully while observing their fingers locked together.

Outside, barely audible over the rain, the lone sound of a car horn made them both look up in surprise.

“Probably Varric,” Isabela smiled. “He knows I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Hot date?”

“I wish! No, I’m-” She looked down, smiling, and Hawke could swear she blushed a little. “I’m gonna follow my dreams, finally. You’ll see.”

Hawke didn’t like the sound of that, and he had a feeling Aveline probably wouldn’t approve either. The last time Isabela “followed her dream”, they had all shared the life-changing experience of a night in jail. He knew nothing he’d say would change her mind though, so he kissed the top of her dark, wavy hair instead.

“Count me out. But thank you.” He couldn’t keep from grinning, knowing fully well that they would all probably be pulled into her plans, no matter what they said.

She didn’t answer, instead sticking her tongue out before stepping out into the rain. She hesitated for a second before she turned back around. “Call me if you need anything, Hawke.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Then he stood in the doorway for a while, first waving Varric and Isabela off, then staring into space, smelling the freshness of the rain while wondering what he’d ever done to deserve friends like them. He rubbed the back of his neck before closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

The insistent rapping on his door woke him from a pleasant dream with a gasp, instinctively diving for the old alarm clock. It was two in the morning, and he stumbled out of bed. He had a sudden horrible flashback to when he was fourteen and the police had been on their doorstep with their hats in their hands, informing them of Malcolm’s passing.

Dog didn’t even lift an ear to the noise, snoring happily by his bedroom door, the only proof of her knowing where she was and what was going on was the slow, acknowledging thump of her tail as he passed her. He’d forgotten his phone on the living room table, and he checked it for missed calls, _none, thank the maker_ , before going through the hallway to the front door. The rapping repeated, and Hawke eyed his old baseball bat before deciding to just open it.

There, on his doorstep, wet like a drowned cat, stood Fenris. His head was bowed, water dripping off the top of his brow-bone and the tip of his nose. The temperature had dropped during the night, and Hawke felt the chill before he saw how much Fenris was trembling before him, despite the red scarf Fenris had wrapped around his neck.

Hawke didn’t say anything, just stepped outside far enough to wrap Fenris in his arms, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Fenris returned the embrace.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Fenris didn’t say anything, and Hawke didn’t try to push him. He was currently dressed in one of Hawke’s old hoodies, skinny wrists and hands poking out of the folds of fabric enough to cling to a cup of tea. Dog had immediately stuck her head in his lap, and Hawke studied the two of them, trying to ignore the flutters in his stomach.

Fenris glanced up at him just then, catching the probably too-tender expression on Hawke’s face, because he rubbed his neck self-consciously, staring at the floor.

“I wish I knew what to say,” he said quietly. “I wish I knew how to explain.”

“I can’t lie and say I wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Now there was an understatement if there ever was one, but Fenris didn’t seem to catch it, eyes still glued to the cup in his hand, the other hand trailing Dog’s ear.

"I just wanted to be happy. Just for a little while. I knew I couldn't be, not with Danarius-" He sucked in air, holding it for a moment before letting it out with a huff. "It wasn't fair to you." Fenris shut his eyes tightly, knotting his eyebrows, and with closed eyes his own skinny hands found Hawke’s, lacing them together. “What was it you said once? Once the tape recorder is on the table and you’ve asked my consent, then you’re working?”

Hawke frowned. “Yes, but-”

“We’re getting ready for a tour,” Fenris said flatly, interrupting him. “And I’m not ready. I'm not ready for this. And here I am trying to sabotage it all, for everyone. For Sebastian. For Tallis. Kaffas, I’m even sorry for doing this to Anders," he cut himself off, running a hand through his hair. "I have to get this out, Hawke. I have to stop it. I know you can help me, it would-" he paused again, glancing up at Hawke. "It would mean everything to me if you would."

“Help you how?” Hawke asked, fully knowing what Fenris was asking him to do. Fenris shot him a look, because he knew as well, knew that Hawke understood the implications.

“You do not owe me any favours, I know that, but-”

“I’ll do it.”

Fenris looked down, a smile that was barely there at all grazing his lips. Maker, he was so skinny; his face all hard angles and sharp edges, his skin stretched so tightly across his jaw he looked like he was carved in stone. Without thinking Hawke leaned forward, moving his hand so he could trail his thumb along Fenris’ chin.

Fenris let him, though his pose was strained, eyes staring stiffly at Hawke’s face, like he was waiting for something, though Hawke didn’t want to think about what that might be. When he finally spoke, his voice was small, in a way, no energy left.

"I grew up somewhere like your alienage, with my mother and sister."

Hawke thought back to the towering concrete towers, and imagined a small, vulnerable Fenris playing around the graffiti and the trash. His fingers stopped caressing Fenris’ face, frozen mid-air before he finally placed his hand in his lap.

"I did not-" Fenris paused, furrowing his forehead. "I stole my first bass guitar," he finally said, peering at Hawke with a sheepish expression on his face. "Someone was moving into our building, and I took it. Went to the riverside to play so they wouldn't hear it, and that's where Danarius found me. He loves talking about it. The ragged little street child he picked up from the gutters and turned into... Well, someone less of a street child."

“Fenris, you don’t-”

“I owe Danarius a lot,” Fenris said sharply, raising his face to Hawke’s. “That’s the bottom line. I’ll try to explain it all to you, but not tonight.” Fenris stopped talking, letting out a breath so deep it seemed to hollow out his skinny chest, rubbing two fingers against his temple. “I’m too tired. Too tired for any of this.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, if you-”

That was as far as Hawke got before Fenris leaned forward, pressing lips made warm by tea to his. It wasn’t a lengthy kiss, but it was a desperate one, and Hawke hesitated only for a fraction of a second before he met Fenris’ embrace.

“Thank you, Hawke.”  
  


* * *

 

Being back in the bedroom wasn’t awkward like sharing a bed with an ex-lover, but it lacked the insatiable hunger of a current one. Hawke didn’t quite know how to process the situation, or how to interpret their relationship. To be honest, he wasn’t fully sure how they both had ended up in Hawke’s bedroom at all.

Fenris had swayed when he pulled Hawke’s sweater off, folding it neatly before putting it on Hawke’s dresser. There was something so sad about that. Skinny Fenris, so tired he could barely stand upright, still somehow finding the energy to fold Hawke’s clothes. Then he climbed into bed, carefully adjusting himself to Hawke’s side, facing him. He still had a look on his face like he expected less from Hawke, somehow. Something worse. Like he was carefully gauging Hawke’s reaction, body tense and ready to flee.

They stayed like that, for a while, quietly observing each other.

“You know what I did in your absence?” Hawke started, determined to see a smile on Fenris’ face, even if that meant the loss of his own dignity.

“What?”

“I was sent on a very important assignment. Some bigshot rapper and his entourage.”

“I didn’t realize that was your _scene,_ ” Fenris said dryly, but some of that hunted expression had smoothed from his face.

“Not, really, no. Anyway, I-” Hawke coughed, already kind of regretting it. “I forgot my press pass. And Carver didn’t answer his phone and I was already late, so…”

“Yes?” Fenris was clearly amused now, his lips quirking a little.

“There was a ventilation shaft.”

“No...” Fenris whispered.

“Yes.” Hawke nodded solemnly, enjoying the bewildered look on Fenris’ face.

“Please tell me you didn’t try to infiltrate a rap club through a ventilation shaft.”

“‘ _Try_ ’ being the keyword, yes.”

“Oh no,” Fenris started. “Don’t tell me you…”

“I got stuck,” Hawke confirmed. “They even called the cops. Thought it was a rival band out to kill them.”

“Oh, venhedis,” Fenris actually started laughing. That deep, rich laugh that Hawke had missed so much, and Hawke felt his insides swell. “What happened?”

“Well, without the press pass I got towed in. Had to call Varric.”

To his dying day, Hawke would never forget how Varric had laughed. He’d have to put the phone down until Varric was done laughing, no doubt already planning who first to tell.

“Not Aveline?”

“She didn’t pick up the phone. She probably thought I was out with Isabela again.”

Fenris snickered, relaxing into the bed with a content sigh. They watched each other quietly again, a soft smile still present on Fenris’ lips.

It felt different than just a few minutes ago, air electric like something was about to happen. It was one of those scary moments where Hawke would be likely to bare his heart to Fenris, so he turned his head instead, staring up at the ceiling. The day had been too long for that kind of conversation.

“Yup, it was an exciting night,” Hawke finally said, but when he turned back around, he found Fenris asleep.

The lines on Fenris’ face were smoothed out, his breathing deep and even. He slept like the dead, like he hadn’t slept for weeks.

Hawke shifted quietly next to him, running his fingers over the sheets to keep them from intertwining with Fenris’ hands, trying to piece everything together. Piece together a history that wasn’t his own, of a small boy in a crumbling slum and a powerful, wealthy man. He wished the story didn’t sound so familiar. He finally gave up, holding Fenris’ hand enough to gently kiss his knuckles.

He hadn’t known Fenris for long, but he realized he was worth waiting for. Worth fighting for. Hawke fell asleep like that, fingers softly intertwined with Fenris’.


	13. Chapter 13

Hawke’s eyes fluttered against the light, and he stretched gently, still caught somewhere between dreams and reality, the world taking on a slightly hazy feel. It took a few seconds before the previous night clicked into place, and he turned to where Fenris had slept. It was empty, a small note hastily scribbled and left on the pillow.

“Need to pick up some things. I’ll be at the coffee house around six. -F”

The handwriting was hard to decipher, and Hawke ran his hand over his face, trying to focus on the note while simultaneously trying to maintain a semi-conscious thought. It was harder than it ought to be, and Hawke rolled out of bed with a grunt. He wondered how Fenris had managed to slip out without him waking, but at the moment there was one thing on his mind, and one thing only; Coffee. Freshly brewed, hot, strong coffee.

Dog seemed happy to see him, her tail thumping against the hardwood as he walked past her, patting her head in passing like he always did. It was a nice routine for them, because even if he wasn’t conscious enough to think, he was conscious enough to pet her.

The familiarity of the routine quickly dissipated as he stepped into the kitching, freezing in place. There, on the kitchen table, sat the tape recorder.

Hawke hadn’t put it there, he knew that. It was always carefully kept in his worn canvas shoulder bag with his notepad and writing supplies. Which meant-

Hawke swallowed thickly, walking around the table like it contained a timed bomb. Whatever was on that tape, it wouldn’t be anything good.

Ignoring it for now, Hawke filled the old coffee maker with coffee grounds and fresh water. The practiced movements had an almost comforting effect on Hawke, and his hand was steady as he turned it on. The sound of it was familiar and comforting as well, the gentle crackling and surging sounds filling the tiny apartment with warmth.

It was almost enough to make him consider eating something, but a quick glance at the tape recorder had him change his mind. His stomach lurched uncomfortably at the prospects of food at the moment. A rare thing, really.

He walked around the table again, warming his hands on the porcelain cup. He was just about to press the button when he changed his mind, walking the other way so he could pace around the kitchen instead. It became a dance, the pacing, the reaching out to start the tape recorder. He kept changing his mind and taking sips of scalding hot coffee while he argued with himself.

“You coward,” he finally said out loud, slamming the play button down before he could change his mind.

At first he just heard fumbling, a slight static-y rumble and he wondered if this all had been for nothing. Maybe he had just put it in the wrong place, after all.

But then Fenris spoke, his voice unsure.

“Full disclosure, right? I figure this is as much consent as you’ll ever need.” Fenris chuckled humorlessly. “Although right now I feel like I’m just confessing my sins to you.”

Hawke was frozen in place, staring at the tape recorder that suddenly didn’t feel like his own anymore.

Fenris’ voice wavered for a second before he continued. "I lied to you. I wasn't sixteen when Danarius found me, I was fourteen."

 _Maker’s breath_ , Hawke’s hands shook as he brought it up to his face.

“I was so young. So inexperienced and naive. He bought a house for my mother and my sister. In Orlais, I think. Or maybe they are in Tevinter still. We were to have no more contact. And I accepted it, how could I not? I’d seen my sister almost starve to death, my mother-” He sucked in another breath, fully audible even through the tape. “I do not remember much of them. He would give me pills when I got nervous, and the pills made me forget.”

Hawke wanted to pause the tape. Throw it at the wall. Hell, punch the wall.

“Soon I was like a trained pet for him to show his friends. He changed my name, bleached my hair, covered me in tattoos, said it would be my image when he made me famous. He did other things too, he sh-” Fenris stopped speaking and Hawke wondered for a moment if the tape had ended before he spoke again. “-shaved me. Trained me.”

Hawke’s head snapped to the tape recorder.

“I did not question it. I owed him, for my family. I was thankful. And he would pet me the times I hesitated. Say ‘It’s just like before, just like when there’s just the two of us. Let them see you’.”

Hawke leaned against the wall, still cradling the coffee cup in his hands.

“Then Somniari was formed, and it turned into more than just some local band, and suddenly there was less time for him to use me as entertainment for his friends. Most of my time went into writing, playing, spending the nights in his bed, just the two of us, though I’m unsure if that was much better. The pills- The pills stopped working. He found alternatives.” His breath hitched. “And then I found you.”

Hawke remembered how tired and resigned Fenris had seemed back then.

“Danarius liked your-” Another long pause, a slight humourless chuckle. “-fascination with me. Thought it would make your writing more _poignant_. Though he didn’t approve when he realized the feeling was mutual. When I returned to him that night-”

Hawke’s legs felt shaky, and he sank down on the floor, accepting Dog’s embrace, scared of what was to come.

“I told you there are contracts. That is the truth. But there are also pictures. Of me. And... I don’t remember much of the past two weeks. He kept feeding me drugs. Kept taking pictures. More than before, I think he realized he was losing me.”

How many times could Hawke’s heart drop? How many times could the air get knocked out of his lungs? He knew one thing though, he was gonna kill Danarius. Kill him. Expose him. Ruin his reputation and then ruin his body. Ruin his very essence, like he had tried to ruin Fenris. Even if Fenris hadn’t asked for his help, he would have. He would do anything to see this man destroyed.

“Anders caught us, once. And he never forgot about it. And he liked you, probably more than you realized. I can’t blame him, though I wish he’d stay out of it. Which is unfair to you.”

It couldn’t have been easy for Anders, Hawke realized, to watch all of this unfold. He was surprised Anders had managed to keep the restraint he had shown.

"You asked me why I left. I couldn’t answer then. I probably still can’t. It may be hard to understand, but it's like being an abused child. It might be terrible, but it's all you have. Familiar, and more comfortable in a way, because at least you know what to expect.”

It was hard to understand. Hard to wrap his mind around a concept as this one, though the words sounded like they would make sense to someone who had lived it.

“So there you have it. I wrote a note for you, saying I’d be at the coffee house. If you don’t show, I’ll understand,” he paused. “Well, goodbye.” Then the static crackled and died down.

Hawke spent a few minutes on the floor, cradling both Dog and the cold cup of coffee in his arms. Well, things made more sense now. And that initial dislike he’d felt for Danarius had turned into an intense, fiery hatred.  
  


* * *

 

He pulled up to the coffee house a few hours later. He was still a bit early, but pacing around the house and thinking about Fenris had started making him feel a bit ill, his heart hammering sickly in his chest. One thing he had realized though. Nothing had changed. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, it was the same as it had been last night. Fenris was worth fighting for.

After a few seconds of hesitation he took a few steadying breaths, and crossed the parking lot and reached the door. He had to resist the urge to barge in, instead opening it slowly, and glanced around the place. He had to admit part of him expected it to be empty, like it had been the previous time he’d been here. But there, in a corner, head slightly bowed, was Fenris.

Hawke stopped, for a minute, watching him. Fenris had a cigarette dangling between his lips, seemingly more out of habit than anything else; The ashtray in front of him was packed full with the stuff. He was still wearing Hawke’s baggy hoodie, and Fenris had his chin buried in the fabric.

He wasn’t aware that Hawke was there, or if he did he didn’t let it show. He kept his head tilted down, his face a smooth mask until Hawke was at his table. Then he finally raised his head, eyes locking with Hawke’s. Once their eyes met the indifferent mask suddenly cracked and disappeared, replaced instead by a relieved smile and soft eyes.

“Hawke,” he said, his voice firmer than Hawke expected it to be. Firmer than the rest of his face would hint at.

“Fenris.” And that was the only word Hawke was able to say before he enveloped Fenris in a tight hug, though if Fenris had lept into his embrace, or if Hawke had moved down to swoop Fenris into his arms, he couldn’t say.

“You’re here,” Fenris mumbled against Hawke’s neck.

Hawke didn’t answer, just pulled him closer, placing fervent kisses on Fenris’ cheeks and lips. Fenris returned the kiss until he seemed to realize where they were, and with a chuckle Fenris pulled away, sliding a hand through his hair. They stared sheepishly at each other for a moment before sitting down at the table.

Once the high of the embrace had faded a bit, Hawke got a chance to look at what was at Fenris' side. If Hawke had thought the expression on Fenris’ face was heartbreaking, then it was nothing against the small bag he’d put next to him on the seat.

“Is that…?”

“Everything I own, yeah.” Fenris gave a tired little half-smile. “I left Danarius. I have no idea how he’ll react, but I’ve talked with some friends. I’ll sleep on their couch for a while until I get things sorted out.”

“Stay with me,” Hawke blurted out. He realized he couldn't stand the thought of Fenris moving from place to place, never really safe.

“What?” Fenris got a strange look on his face, the same as he’d had the previous night. That hunted sort of look. Like he expected Hawke to turn on him at any second.

And of course, it wasn’t that hard to understand why. Fenris had just managed to escape Danarius. Maybe Hawke’s apartment would feel confining as well.

“If you want to.” Hawke moved his chair back a little, scratching at the back of his head. “I have a closet that is technically a spare bedroom.”

“I… Don’t know what to say.” Fenris studied the expression on Hawke’s face, before he hesitantly added. “Yes.”

Before Hawke had the chance to say anything, Fenris touched his arm gently, glancing up at him.

“But temporary. I’ll need to get back on my own two feet. I can't go from being depended on one person to-” He cut himself off, looking away.

“Of course. I understand.”

Fenris looked up again, staring at him for a second, studying his expression.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay.”


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

  
“This isn’t what I had in mind when you invited me for Wicked Grace, you know,” Varric grumbled as he carried yet another box from Hawke’s guest room, squeezing it into Hawke’s closet.

“Would you have come otherwise?” Hawke raised an eyebrow, giving Varric a wonderfully misplaced accusing look.

“Heh, probably not,” Varric admitted, shooting Hawke a grin.

“Where does this go? Is it like a kitchen appliance or something?” Merrill asked, holding Hawke’s fishing rod with a quizzical look on her face.

“Oh, Daisy…” Varric sighed, patting Hawke on the back as he steered Merrill towards Hawke’s closet.

Hawke went back to the guest bedroom, where Fenris was sitting on the narrow sofa bed they’d somehow both managed to put together and squeeze in under the window, the small bag with his belongings next to him.

“You okay?” Hawke sat down next to him, slowly moving Fenris’ hand to his.

“Yes, it’s just a lot to take in.” Fenris smiled weakly at him. “I still can’t believe I’m free to do what I please.”

“I just hope that means late night movie marathons and greasy take outs.”

Fenris opened his mouth to say something, but Merrill popped her head in, eager face split in a huge smile.

“The pizza is here, Hawke!”

“Speak of the devil,” Hawke grinned.

That was the least he could do for his friends, ordering pizza to make up for the hard physical labour of turning a storage room into a bedroom. Hawke cast a look Fenris’ way before walking out to the front door, where a young woman had four pizzas balancing in her arms.

“Okay,” he started, handing the pizzas over to Varric while paying for it. “There’s pepperoni for Merrill, meat lovers special for Varric, beef and onion for Fenris, and-” He let his voice purposefully trail off, waving to the pizza carrier as she left.

“Spit it out, Hawke. What’d you get this time?” Varric snickered, handing out the boxes to the others. Varric noticed Fenris’ confused stare, because he turned to him. “Hawke has a habit of ordering pizzas the rest of us wouldn’t touch.”

Fenris seemed a bit lost, but followed the rest of them into the living room, where they moved the table enough for them to be able to sit on the carpet, opening the pizza boxes with reverence.

“Isn’t ordering one pizza for each of us a bit… Excessive?” Fenris asked, carefully getting a slice out.

“Everyone knows pizza is better the next day.” Hawke opened his own box so he could pull out a slice.

“French fries, pickles and-” Varric said, curling his lip a little with disgust. “Barbecue sauce? You’ve outdone yourself, Hawke.”

“What?” Hawke mumbled, mid-chew. “’s good!”

Merrill was too lost picking off pepperoni on her pizza to pay attention, at least not until Fenris spoke.

“Why don’t you order a pizza without pepperoni if you do not like it?”

Merrill focused her large eyes on his, pausing only briefly to put the stacks of pepperoni down on the lid of her box, which Varric quickly snatched up and placed on his own pizza.

“But I like picking them off, can’t very well do that if there’s nothing there to begin with, now, can I?” Then she sent Fenris one of her wide, honest smiles, while Fenris just stared back at her in baffled silence.

“Not to mention, what would I do without the extra pepperoni? Really, Broody, you wound me.”

Fenris flinched a little at the nickname, but didn’t speak right away, instead sinking back while studying the look on Varric’s face. Varric was too busy with his extra slices of pepperoni to notice the tension on Fenris’ face.

“Ah, you’ve gotten a nickname,” Hawke quickly said, trying to defuse the situation while simultaneously trying to stuff another pizza-fry monstrosity into his mouth. “I knew they’d like you.”

“You make nicknames for everyone you meet?” Some of the discomfort faded from Fenris’ expression.

“Only the ones I find interesting,” Varric winked.

“How come you don’t have one?” Fenris turned to Hawke, but Varric answered for him.

“Oh, he does. Usually Waffles. Killer if he’s being particularly aggressive during Wicked Grace. Though, I suppose usually it’s just… Hawke. It speak volumes, really.”

“Waffles…” Fenris said, leaning back with a grin on his face. “I like that. It’s fitting.”

“Hey!” Hawke protested, though it probably sounded less than convincing with his mouth full of pizza. “I resent that!”

“Whatever you say, Killer,” Varric snorted into his drink.

The tension in Fenris’ shoulders disappeared completely as he laughed, and Hawke laughed along with him, with all of them, knowing his own loss of dignity was worth it as long as that meant getting to see Fenris as carefree and happy as he looked at the moment.  


* * *

  
Hawke tossed in bed. It was difficult trying to sleep knowing that Fenris was in the next room. It had been such a nice day, bright and cheerful with good friends and Fenris smiling across from him. Quite the contrast to the dark, lonely room he was currently in.

It wasn’t just the knowledge that Fenris was down the hall. Most of all it was the knowledge that somewhere else, far across town, Danarius had probably realized that Fenris had left him. Hawke wasn’t afraid of Danarius, but he was afraid of what Danarius might do to Fenris. If he’d really use those horrendous pictures of Fenris as blackmail, use this as a way to ruin Fenris’ career.

The thought made him sick, and Hawke tried to will himself to sleep, squeezing his eyes shut.

Of course that didn’t work.

Hawke opened them back up, sighing and staring at the ceiling. He’d have to do something sooner rather than later, he knew that. Every second he delayed it would be another second Danarius had to destroy them. He’d have to ask Aveline, and not to mention Varric. They always knew the best course of action. Aveline with her intense knowledge of laws and regulations, Varric with his knowledge of… Well, of less savoury things, admittedly, but no less useful. He needed to call Aveline first thing tomorrow, maybe get them all together, or catch up with Varric at work. Together, they could accomplish anything, like a group of misfit superheroes. Satisfied with that half-solution, he turned around, closing his eyes again.

He was almost asleep when the knock on the door came, so softly it was like it wasn’t there at all. In fact, for a moment Hawke was certain he had dreamt it. He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up in bed and right before he was convinced he had imagined it, he heard another soft knock. He cast a look at the time, before he stumbled sleepily over to the door, opening it.

Like before Fenris had his head bowed, though if he was afraid of Hawke’s reaction or his own, Hawke couldn’t say.

“Fenris?”

“Tell me to go, and I will.” Fenris looked up at him, his eyes big, black pools in his narrow face, dominating it completely.

Hawke didn’t say a word, just put his hands on either side of Fenris’ face, pulling him in for a kiss.

Fenris was deceptively small because, despite his skinny frame, when he pushed forward he almost knocked Hawke off his feet with the sheer intensity of the kiss.

They didn’t speak, instead stumbling on their way to the bed, hands tangling in fabric as they tried to wrestle it off, lips not leaving each other.

Hawke had a moment of regret that he didn’t sleep in the nude, or at least in some fashionable ensemble, but then Fenris started pulling his old, graying t-shirt off and he stopped thinking altogether. Hawke groaned and kissed back as he started unbuttoning Fenris’ shirt. He didn’t have time to pull it off before Fenris yanked his underwear down enough for Hawke to step out of, Fenris’ slender hands running over Hawke’s body.

Hawke squirmed a little and chuckled as he broke the kiss. “That’s not fair,” he murmured when Fenris started nipping on his collarbone, “you’ll have to get undressed too, now.”

Fenris smirked a little, taking a step back so he could slowly pull his shirt off his shoulders, undoing his pants so he could drop them to the floor, eyes not leaving Hawke.

They embraced again, and with a kiss Hawke turned Fenris around so he could gently push him down on the bed. Fenris’ breathing was heavy, but slow, suddenly eyeing Hawke suspiciously. There was a full range of emotions on his face, a mix of arousal, fear, embarrassment and excitement.

Hawke ran his finger across Fenris’ sharp jaw, drinking in every expression and hard curve, following Fenris’ tattoos as they trailed down his body. Fenris’ head was tilted up to Hawke’s, the long expanse of his neck exposed, like he was offering himself. And he was, eyes dark as he glanced at Hawke through half-lidded eyes. Hawke accepted the invitation, carefully tilting Fenris’ head back further so he could kiss the sensitive skin near his jaw.

“You’re beautiful,” Hawke murmured as he stroked up Fenris’ thigh, bringing his hand up to the base of Fenris’ cock.

Fenris thrust his hips instinctively, pushing himself up to Hawke’s hand and pulled him down for another kiss.

This kiss was different. Slow, deep and almost painfully intimate. Fenris opened himself up completely to Hawke, groaning into the kiss when Hawke wrapped his hand around his erection, moving his hand slowly.

“Hawke,” Fenris said in a breath, covering Hawke’s hand with his own, forcing him to move faster. “I really need you to fuck me.”

The words shot straight to Hawke’s groin, and he ducked down so he could lick the length of Fenris’ cock.

“I need-” Fenris started, but the sentence ended in a breathy groan when Hawke started licking and sucking him.

“You need what?” Hawke teased, engulfing Fenris completely before he had a chance to answer.

“More,” Fenris squirmed, thrusting into Hawke’s mouth. “I need more.”

Hawke did a few, languid licks of his tongue before moving up over Fenris’ chest, meeting his lips in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss.

“Please,” Fenris whispered, and the broken moan sent stabs of arousal straight to Hawke’s groin.

Hawke broke the kiss so he could pull Fenris closer, reveling in the feeling of their skin touching. Fenris’ slender arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer in turn and Hawke groaned when Fenris’ pressed his lips to his. Fenris was as responsive as he had been the last time; gasping into the kiss as he moved his pelvis against Hawke’s in slow circular movements that had Hawke thrust against him.

“I want-” Hawke started, but Fenris silenced him with another kiss.

They parted, reluctantly, as Hawke reached for the small bottle of lube Isabela had given him with one of her winks, and spread a decent sized glob on his fingers. Fenris let his legs fall open at the sight, giving Hawke full access to his body, though his face was tilted the other way and pressed against the pillow. Hawke suddenly felt both nervous and inexperienced, his hand trembling as he moved it between Fenris’ legs, and he gently rubbed in small circles, earning himself a moan.

Fenris started bucking against his fingers, impatiently trying to make Hawke breach him, and Hawke wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone more perfect than what Fenris looked at the moment.

With a groan Hawke used the lubrication still left on his hand to coat himself, before lining himself up. He paused for a second, casting a quick look up at Fenris’ face before continuing. Fenris moved his head to look at him, looking completely lost in the moment, his gaze clouded under hooded lids and his mouth slightly parted.

He took that as confirmation and pressed forward, gentler than his body urged him to be, and froze in that glorious moment when he felt Fenris’ body give, enclosing him in tight heat. Fenris gasped then, eyes opened wide when Hawke entered him.

Hawke went slow, feeling Fenris adjust to the intrusion and allow him to sink deeper until Hawke’s pelvis pressed flush against Fenris.

“Fenris,” Hawke breathed, his heart hammering in his chest, and placed kisses along the expanse of Fenris’ neck. His head was swimming with the sensation of finally, _finally_ , being inside Fenris; The sensation of their bodies being connected in the most intimate of ways.

He waited until he felt Fenris relax completely under him before he started pulling out, pausing slightly before slowly going back in.

Something passed over Fenris’ face then and he shut his eyes for a moment before he spoke. “Hawke,” he started, then shook his head, and a strange softness entered his voice. “Come closer to me.”

“I am,” Hawke mumbled against Fenris’ lips. “I’m as close to you as I can.”

“Closer,” Fenris groaned, and Hawke pressed some of his weight down on him, curling one arm around his shoulders.

“Yes,” Fenris murmured, clinging to Hawke.

At first they just gently rocked together, their bodies pressed so flush together that it hindered most of their movements, but it felt so good, it felt so _good,_ to be close to Fenris, to breathe him in. He caressed Fenris’ lips with his own, placing soft kisses and murmuring beautiful nonsense against his skin.

“Need you, Fenris, I can’t believe-”

Fenris wrapped his legs around Hawke’s hips, meeting his thrusts in a slow, rolling rhythm that had a broken sound escape Hawke’s lips.

Maker’s breath, how did he ever survive without having this? How did he live so long without feeling like this?

Fenris nipped at his bottom lip, and Hawke trembled against him.

“So good,” Fenris breathed against his lips.

Hawke voiced his agreement through a groany exhale, not even able to make words anymore, completely brought to his knees.

Fenris’ hands scrambled to the small of Hawke’s back, his fingers digging into his skin as Hawke thrust harder. He shifted his hands down, hooking his elbows under Fenris’ knees so he could push deeper into him and Fenris’ breath became ragged at the motion.

Hawke was used to Fenris’ hard angles and eyes that would sometimes dull a bit, but now Fenris was lying beneath him, soft with compliance and voice hoarse with need. He was beautiful.

There were still moments, tiny little moments, where Fenris seemed to almost disappear. He shut his eyes tightly, and Hawke wondered where he went.

They shifted their angle slightly to the side so Hawke was able to put one hand on Fenris’ back, feeling the curve of his body as Fenris moved against him, shuddering at the strangled moan it tore from Fenris’ throat.

 _That’s right,_ Hawke thought desperately, _stay with me._

Then Fenris pushed them further so that he could straddle Hawke’s thighs, the new position allowing him to go deeper than Hawke thought possible. Fenris threw his head back and rode him slowly, eyes closed in concentration.

_Maker, he was-_

“Perfect,” Hawke whispered, fanning his hands over Fenris’ chest, feeling the play of muscles under his fingers. Then he followed the hard lines of Fenris’ body down to his hips so he could hold on to him and meet his movements with more force.

There was a desperate need for Fenris to need Hawke as much as Hawke needed him at that very moment.

Heat started spreading through Hawke in pulsing waves of pleasure and he knew he wouldn’t be long. Looking up at Fenris’ face, eyebrows pinched together and his mouth falling open for each snap of his hips, Hawke knew he wasn’t far behind.

It seemed Fenris could tell as well, because he leaned forward, using Hawke’s muscular abdomen as friction, riding him harder.

“Venhedis,” Fenris said in that deliciously broken voice, leaning down to capture Hawke’s lips in another kiss. A kiss that was fervent, desperate and hungry, like Fenris was afraid to pull back and realize Hawke wasn’t there at all. “You’ll be the death of me, Hawke.”

And with that Hawke felt Fenris’ body tense, a strangled moan escaping Fenris’ mouth as he came. The sight alone would be enough to push Hawke over the edge as well, but the sounds he was making, the way his body tensed around Hawke, Hawke knew he wouldn’t have had a chance to last another second even if he was blind.

It took only an additional couple of thrust before he came as well, holding Fenris harder, seeing white and saying something he couldn’t hear over the blood that rushed in his ears.

Fenris’ head was bowed again, his hair falling over his eyes as he panted, digging his fingers into Hawke’s skin. He stayed like that for a second before allowing Hawke to pull him in for a languid kiss that held none of the previous desperation, just an overwhelming sense of warmth that Hawke could feel from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.

The initial fog of arousal had lifted, but Hawke found himself no less mesmerized.

“That was…” Hawke let his voice trail off as he made a movement with his hand to encompass everything that had happened.

“Yes,” Fenris agreed, settling himself against Hawke’s shoulder where he went quiet for a while.

Hawke stayed quiet as well, feeling his heart rate return to normal, and he trailed a hand across the twirling lines on Fenris’ body. He marveled again at the feel of them, and he closed his eyes while he tracked one of them across Fenris’ shoulder.

“They are more scars than tattoos,” Fenris said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“When I had them done, Danarius asked them to go deep. Said he liked to be able to feel me in the dark,” Fenris caught Hawke’s hand and twined their fingers together.

Hawke tightened his hold on him, suddenly ashamed of his fascination with the white lines on his body. The fascination suddenly felt like something dirty and wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke whispered, not sure if he meant Danarius obsession, or his own.

“You are not him,” Fenris stated simply, and they stayed quiet after that, Hawke stroking Fenris’ arm absentmindedly while letting his thoughts wander.

“You know this will not be easy, right?” Fenris murmured against Hawke’s shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, “Not just because of Danarius, but because of me?”

“I know.”

“I have scars.”

That was the first time Hawke had heard Fenris sounding insecure and frail and he tightened his hold on him. “I know,” Hawke repeated to the air, knowing fully well that Fenris meant far more than his tattoos.

“I’m damaged goods.”

“You are not,” Hawke started, putting a finger to Fenris’ lips when he tried to speak, “but even if you were, even if you were damaged, I’d still want you,” he breathed, watching as Fenris’ eyes, now wide and startled, flickered up to his.

At the moment he didn’t care if the words frightened Fenris, because they were words that needed to be said.

“I’m here, Fenris.”

Fenris’ eyes softened at that, and he trailed fingers across Hawke’s cheek. He didn’t speak another word, but when he leaned back down against Hawke shoulder, it took only a moment for him to fall asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the delays here. There are things going on in my life, and have been for a while now, that I have no control over, and that takes a lot of my time.


	15. Chapter 15

Fenris didn’t go back to the guest bedroom after that night, an arrangement Hawke neither brought up with Fenris, or the others. He’d hate to tell Varric all that hard work was for nothing.

Well, not _nothing_ , but he wasn’t so sure that Varric wanted to know more than that.

When Hawke entered the kitchen the following morning, he found Fenris in one of Hawke’s oversized t-shirts, making coffee.

He looked different, that was the only way Hawke knew to explain it; Like he had crumbled under the weight of his struggles and emerged as someone different. Or maybe he hadn’t crumbled at all, but pushed through to the other side.

And when Fenris finally noticed his presence, Hawke couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, only that he looked breathtakingly beautiful. It floored him for a moment, until Fenris smiled a crooked little smile, and things felt- Things felt good again. Normal, even, like they were just two people in love, nothing more, nothing less. Hawke smiled back with relief and with a few strides stepped up to him and cradled Fenris’ neck with his hands, kissing him.

“I did not know what you preferred for breakfast, so I-” Fenris broke himself away from Hawke, scratching the back of his neck with a shy little smile. “I made coffee.”

“I’m not sure I should subject you to the wonder that is the Hawke family breakfasts right away, but know they contain an indecent amount of bacon, waffles and whipped cream.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking a little. “Bacon and whipped cream?”

“Something to look forward to,” Hawke promised, though Fenris looked less than convinced. “But how about some toast for today?”

Fenris looked relieved, and with a nod he started pouring coffee into two over-sized mugs. Hawke quickly angled one of the cups the other way so Fenris wouldn’t see the chip on the handle, before reaching into his cupboard for bread for toasting. Hearing the ruckus, Dog came into the kitchen, her big butt moving back and forth when she wagged her tail excitedly.

It felt so uncomplicated, so blissfully domestic, that Hawke almost forgot the promise he’d made himself the previous night. Almost, and his smile faltered when he thought about what he had to do after breakfast was over and done with. He shook his head slightly, continuing with the comforting ritual of toasting the bread and preparing the various spreads.

Fenris was done pouring the coffee, and after placing the two mugs on the kitchen table, he stood by the window, leaning slightly on the kitchen counter as he looked at the view. Hawke went up behind him, wrapped his arms around Fenris’ waist and rested his chin on Fenris’ shoulder.

“I’m glad I came,” Fenris whispered, putting his hand on Hawke’s forearm. “I feel-” He audibly swallowed. “I feel better, here.”

“I feel better with you here as well,” Hawke murmured against Fenris’ shoulder.

They stayed in silence after that, and although familiar and comforting, there was something fragile about the silence as well, something not even Dog could counteract when she nuzzled her way between both their legs, joining in on the hug.  
  


* * *

  
After breakfast, Fenris got the red scarf back around his neck and told Hawke he was off to meet Seb. Hawke suspected it had something to do with the future of Somniari, but he didn’t want to ask.

It gave Hawke the opportunity to speak to Varric and Aveline, though he didn’t particularly look forward to it.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his heart had fluttered a little when Fenris picked up his set of keys for the apartment, sending a small smile Hawke’s way before he locked himself out. Hawke leaned against the kitchen counter where they stood earlier, watching Fenris’ back as he left. It might just be his imagination, but Fenris seemed to walk straighter, his shoulders squared and unyielding.

With a final, lingering look, he dialed Aveline’s number.

It rang for only a few rings before she answered the phone, her leveled tone of voice calming him more than he’d ever admit to. Aveline was like the older sister he never had.

“Hawke, to what do I owe this honour?” She asked, sounding a bit distracted.

“Aveline, my beautiful sister from another brother, could I ask for your most valued opinion?”

“You do realize that makes no sense, right, Hawke?” She said dryly, before adding. “And of course, you know that.”

“Can you meet me at our regular spot in like-” Hawke checked the time on his phone before continuing. “Half an hour?”

“Done,” she said affectionately, and hung up.  
  


* * *

  
The Hanged Man was comfortably empty, and Varric and Aveline were scowling at each other in their regular booth in a corner. Ah, normalcy. They liked to bicker, but Hawke knew better.

They’d already ordered a beer for Hawke, and Hawke slipped down into the booth with a thankful sigh.

“Must be serious stuff,” Varric grinned and glanced at Aveline. “If you invited us both for this.”

“What,” Aveline scoffed. “Who else does he come to for advice? Isabela? We’re his grown-up friends, you know.”

“And doesn’t that say a lot about our friend Hawke, here?” Varric winked at Hawke.

“Indeed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hawke said, waving his hands in what he hoped was a self-deprecating manner. “I actually called you two because not only are you my only adult friends, but because you fill each other out so nicely.”

Varric and Aveline exchanged glances.

“What I mean,” Hawke clarified. “Is that you both hold knowledge of the same things, just-”

“On opposite sides of the law?” Aveline finished the sentence for him.

“Exactly, you know me so well.” Hawke tried to keep cheerful, still a little high on the emotions from the previous night, but he finally deflated a little and sank back against the worn leather and gulped down a few mouthfuls of beer.

“What can we do, Hawke?” Varric said, his tone serious now, and next to him Aveline leaned forward.

“I don’t want to betray his trust and give out too many details, but Fenris is having more than a little trouble with Danarius and the contract he signed. I have no idea about the legality of papers like these, so I-” Hawke rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t even have a copy of it.”

Aveline had her serious face on - which wasn’t really that different from her normal, everyday face, to be honest - and she contemplated his question for a moment.

“Well, I’m no lawyer, but I do know this: just because a document is signed, doesn’t make it lawful or binding. You can’t just write anything down and say it’s the law.”

“If Danarius sues Fenris for breach of contract, then he won’t get far if the contract itself is not legally binding,” Varric agreed, and Hawke knew he shouldn’t be surprised at his friends’ knowledge.

“And what would make the contract, uh, un-binding?”

“Well, first off, both parties have to be in a position to sign a legal document, which means they can’t be underage or under the influence.” Aveline definitely had her serious face on now, she’d even completely forgotten about her beer.

“And no active concealment!” Varric shot in.

“I’m pretty sure Fenris was underage when he signed it.”

“With no parental supervision?”

“I’m not-” Hawke scrunched up his forehead. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Fenris had told him about his mother and sister back in Tevinter, and for all Hawke knew it could have been his mother who signed the contract for Fenris. Maybe he’d have to ask him about it.

“I’ve heard rumours about Danarius before,” Varric said. “If I were you I’d skip the legal routes and go straight for the kill.” He ignored the dirty look Aveline sent him.

“I’m actually considering writing a piece on him,” Hawke admitted. “If Fenris allows it.”

“Please let me be a fly on the wall when you ask Meredith about that,” Varric chuckled. “Like sticking your beard in a hornets nest.”

“I have a lawyer friend, Hawke, I’ll ask him about this,” Aveline finally seemed to remember her beer. “I’ll get back to you on it.”

“And I’ll look up hired killers in case that falls through,” Varric laughed when he saw Aveline’s expression. “Relax, I’m joking!” But he still turned to Hawke and tapped his nose with a wink.

“I saw that.”

“Of course, nothing ever slips you by.”

Hawke laughed, and the laughter caused a definite shift in the conversation. They spent the next hour talking about Isabela’s mysterious project that Varric refused to say anything about, Carver and the newfound revelation that was Anders, and Aveline’s promotion.  
  


* * *

  
Fenris was already back when Hawke came home, wrapped in a blanket with Dog resting her head on his thigh. He always seemed cold, Hawke had noticed, even when his skin felt feverish. He seemed to always want to cocoon himself in blankets or Hawke’s clothing.

“How did things go?” Hawke asked, throwing his jacket over the armrest of one of the chairs before dumping down next to him.

“Not great,” Fenris admitted, rubbing his eyes. “Sebastian isn’t too happy with me, but it’ll pass. I can’t say I know why, but he seems to have a soft spot for me.”

“I actually wanted to run something by you,” Hawke felt his heart speed up, and he grasped Fenris’ hand. “I’d like to write about this. About Danarius. About you.”

Fenris’ eyes fluttered for a brief moment, but he didn’t really seem surprised. “Why?” He asked instead.

“I’m unsure how much the police would be able to do about this, but we could do something. Prove that he can’t treat people this way, treat you this way. Ruin his reputation.”

“He’d use everything he has on me,” Fenris said quietly.

“Proving us right.” He stroked Fenris’ hand. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m asking more than-”

“No,” Fenris said, straightening his back. “You’re right. Do it. I cannot keep hiding for the rest of my life.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I could be,” Fenris chuckled. “Though I’m happy I bought four bottles of wine today.”

Hawke raised Fenris hand up to his face, and placed a soft kiss on the back of Fenris’ hand.

“He won’t get away with this,” he promised, knowing fully well that he couldn’t, really. In front of him Fenris seemed to have the same line of thinking, because he smiled wistfully.

And with that Hawke worked through the night. He’d like to say he worked until his fingers bled, but alas, that wouldn’t quite be the truth. He did work until his eyes hurt though, though that didn’t quite have the same ring to it.

He tried to distance himself from Fenris’ words, pretending the story belonged to someone else. Fenris was perched on his desk, drinking glass after glass of wine, before finally discarding the glass altogether, drinking straight from the bottle. It seemed to be therapeutic for him, he seemed lighter for every page Hawke wrote, like he was purging it from his system.

It was a strange bonding experience. Not quite the normal pacing for a new relationship, but for Hawke it felt meaningful. Even if, Maker prevent it, their relationship wouldn’t last, then at least they’d done this together, as a team.

Fenris was surprisingly coherent, not slurring in the slightest despite finishing the bottle some time ago.

“-And that is when I met you, though you should probably not add that. Conflict of interest and all that.” Fenris waved his hand. He looked carefree and relaxed at that moment, and Hawke caught his hand and pressed another kiss to his palm. Fenris looked down at him with interest, before gracefully sliding down into his arms.

“Enough work,” he drawled, carefully nibbling on Hawke’s earlobe. “Let’s go to bed.”

Hawke didn’t need to be told twice.  
  


* * *

  
Hawke stood on the sidewalk in front of his workplace, staring up at the building with a frown. He’d been on auto-pilot the previous weeks, turning in his work on time, but not with any heart. Hopefully Meredith would hear him out now, though his gut clenched painfully with the knowledge that she probably wouldn’t.

Still, he opened the wide double-doors with an air of confidence - confidence was key, after all - and made his way up to the right floor. His confident strides lost momentum once he reached Meredith’s door, however, and he hesitated for a brief moment before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Meredith called from the other side, and when Hawke opened the door she was leaned over a stack of papers. She didn’t smile when she looked up. “Garrett, what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey, boss, wondering if you have a minute?”

She frowned slightly, but still moved the stack of papers off to the other side of the desk. “Of course, come in.”

Hawke nodded and closed the door behind him, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before finally sitting down.

“I’d like to do an expose,” he finally blurted out, and in front of him Meredith’s eyes gleamed with interest.

“Really?” She leaned forward, all her focus finally on Hawke. “What about?”

“Oh, you can take your pick, really. Underage human trafficking, non-consensual drug-use, abuse of power,”

“Marvelous!” Meredith clapped her hands together, seemingly forgetting about the nature of the story. “Who on?”

“Danarius,” Hawke said after a brief pause, finally putting the folder containing the story on the table, and Meredith’s eyes immediately narrowed.

Hawke had no doubts that Meredith once had been very pretty, heck, she still had features that might be considered just that, but her personality soured any features nature had graced her with. Her brilliantly blue eyes were hostile as she glared at him, her frown deepening the angry lines on her face.

“Danarius? You should know that he’s a very powerful man.” She broke eye-contact to flick through the folder with disinterest, touching the pages as if they were soiled.

“I do,” Hawke said in a sobered voice.

“And we’re lucky to have such a-” she paused. “Meaningful relationship with him here at Stannard publishings. He’s given us more work than any other person in this town.”

“He’s still a criminal,” Hawke interjected, and Meredith shot him a glance.

“Even so, I don’t want to risk one of my magazine on one of your hunches.”

“Hunches?” Hawke felt himself go cold. “I got more than a hunch.”

“Is that so?” She briefly paused again and Hawke thought for a second that she might allow him to post the story. “Even so, I don’t want my name anywhere near this.” She raised a finger when Hawke tried to speak. “This matter is closed, Garrett Hawke. Publish this drivel, and you can find yourself another place to work.”

Hawke was too stunned to speak, a fact Meredith quickly took advantage of.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” Then she slid the papers back, and ignored Hawke until he finally got up and left her office.

He fought the urge to slam his fists against the walls, cursing under his breath instead.

“It didn’t go too well, I take it?” Varric leaned against the wall next to Hawke with one of his all-knowing smiles. “I can’t say I’m too surprised.” He handed Hawke a piece of paper.

“What’s-?”

“A notice of resignation. I’ve already signed mine.”

“You’d-?” Hawke stared wide-eyed at Varric who patted his back.

“I don’t want to work for someone like her,” he paused for a moment, eyeing Hawke. “Now me? I’m a writer. I can do that anywhere. Heck, I’ve been meaning to start my novel anyway.” His eyes softened. “And you? You’re talented enough to get a job anywhere.”

Hawke nodded. “You’re right. I can’t keep working for her like this.” He accepted the pen Varric handed him, and quickly signed the paper in his hands.

“Think Carver will join us?”

Varric laughed. “Think you can convince Meredith to perform blood-magic stark naked?”

They shared a moment of good-natured laughing before steeling themselves for what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation.  
  


* * *

  
It was more than uncomfortable. Hawke would rather get stuck in a vent ten times over than go through that again. Meredith had screeched and threatened them, before finally turning icy and promised them they’d never, ever, get a job in the city again. She’d even told them to get out and forget about the two weeks resignation period. Not really legal, perhaps, but at the moment Hawke was relieved more than anything else. He had worked here for so long that it felt difficult imagining doing anything else, but it still felt like a relief.

“It’s not true, y’know,” Varric said, balancing the small box of his belongings in his arms. “About the jobs. I know a guy who knows a guy, and long story short; Ever heard of Orsino?”

Of course Hawke knew about him. He was the biggest rivalry Meredith had.

“Don’t you think Meredith would love it if she found out you got a job there?” Varric’s smirk was widening.

“You didn’t-” Hawke breathed, and Varric finally chuckled.

“Of course I did. Your interview is-” He glanced down at his watch. “In half an hour, better hurry.”

“You’re-” Hawke struggled for the words, and Varric grabbed Hawke’s box of belongings with a smile.

“I know,” he simply said, and Hawke had to resist the urge to kiss him, settling for a hug instead.


	16. Chapter 16

Hawke’s head was spinning an hour later. He’d lost and gained a job all in the course of a day. His life seemed to have moved forward more in the course of a few days than it had in the year before it.

Orsino had turned out to be a tall, soft-spoken man with wide-set eyes and a widow’s peak, and Hawke had liked him immediately. Unlike Meredith he seemed more than interested in Hawke’s planned expose, and he had read the case with a frown, which in Hawke’s case was a far more natural reaction than Meredith’s gleeful smile before she realized who it was about.

The ride home had seemed far too long. He wasn’t sure what to tell Fenris, how he’d react to Hawke quitting his job over his case, and Hawke paused outside his front door for a few calming breaths before opening the door.

Fenris was by the junction into the living room looking like he was fresh out of the shower; white hair sticking to his forehead and his cheeks rosy. Next to him Dog didn’t even get off her butt to greet Hawke, and Hawke snickered.

“You took her out for a walk, didn’t you?”

As though she understood the question, Dog thumped her tail happily, her tongue lolling out so it looked like she was grinning.

“You should have warned me she likes pulling people into puddles,” Fenris deadpanned.

He seemed more like himself today, his skin-colour healthier and the gleam back in his eyes. Maybe publishing the case, hell, just talking about it, really had been helpful for him. Maybe it’s what he’d need to heal.

“Y’know, people pay hundreds of dollars for mud-facials, so by my calculations you owe Dog at least a pet.”

Fenris chuckled, and looked down at Dog who already had her face angled up to him. “I’m a little concerned about your apparent knowledge of mud-masks, but you are right. She is a good dog.”

“Would you believe me if I said Isabela’s the one getting them, and not me?”

“No.” Fenris smiled and stepped up to Hawke and pulled him down by his scarf so he could give him a kiss. “But if you can contribute your ruggedly good looks to it, then who am I to complain?”

“Did I hear you correctly? You find me ruggedly handsome?”

Fenris cocked his head and gave him a small, crooked smile. “Is that not obvious?”

“Doesn’t hurt to feed my ego a little more,” Hawke murmured against Fenris’ lips, tilting his chin so he could deepen the kiss.

As they kissed, Hawke’s brain helpfully supplemented a wide array of tacky romantic notions. Fenris’ lips were like life-blood. The fingers curling into his too-long hair at the base of his neck like an anchor. But the bottom line was this; He wanted to keep kissing him, and keep kissing him until the very end of days. Maybe those were the sappiest words of all.

He didn’t say it, he imagined Fenris running for the hills if he fell to his knees and expressed his love through song, trying instead to show his feelings through the kiss.

Maybe Fenris got it anyway, because he groaned against Hawke’s lips, pressing himself closer.

Maker, it felt like a lifetime ago, seeing Fenris on stage, and walking up to him while he sat in the windowsill of the Black Emporium. Hell, even the second time he saw him on stage felt like a lifetime ago, and even though Fenris felt painfully thin in his arms, Hawke was happy to see some colour back in his cheeks.

He pulled away, studying Fenris’ face. “How do you feel?”

Fenris seemed disoriented for a moment, before smiling lazily. “You’re asking me how I feel? Isn’t that obvious as well?”

“No, I mean-” Hawke suddenly felt awkward bringing it up. “You mentioned drugs.”

“Oh,” Fenris’ face closed a little. “Seeing you at the concert was the turning point. You didn’t see the worst of it, and I’m thankful for that.” A slight tremor went through his body, like the memory itself was uncomfortable. “I still feel a bit-” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “But I feel better. Cold and my muscles ache, but not like it was.”

Hawke didn’t mention Fenris’ apparent self-medication with wine, just brushed a snowy lock of hair out of Fenris’ eyes.

“I really want him to pay for what he did to you.”

“Speaking of which, how did it go today?”

“Uhm,” Hawke scratched his neck with a slight chuckle. “I quit.”

“What?” Fenris looked stricken, the colour suddenly drained from his face.

“And then I got a new job.”

Fenris looked gobsmacked for a brief second before he started laughing.

“At least life is not dull with you around.”

“Says the rock star.” Hawke deadpanned, rubbing a thumb down Fenris’ chin. “If anything, you’ve made my life more interesting.”

“I think the word is ‘complicated’,” Fenris said dryly, avoiding eye contact, opting instead to look somewhere around Hawke’s left shoulder.

“Hey,” Hawke murmured, putting a finger under Fenris’ chin enough to make him look at him. “I’d do it all over again, if it meant kissing you in the hallway with Dog’s tail as background music.”

“Sweet-talker,” Fenris chuckled, but allowed Hawke to pull him back in for another kiss.  
  


* * *

  
They lied in sated silence, after, Fenris dozing off on Hawke’s arm. Hawke could get used to this life, he concluded. Life with Mr. Dick hadn’t been nearly this- He wanted to say uncomplicated, though the circumstances that had brought them together was anything but. Still, their relationship did feel uncomplicated, circumstances be damned.

A sharp knock on his front door woke him from his pleasant half-slumber, and Fenris jerked in his arms. Hawke glanced over at the clock-radio, and wondered idly who’d come knocking this late. He quickly disentangled from Fenris, pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, before moving out into the hallway.

Dog was standing near the front door, growling, and Hawke felt a stab of worry.

“What is it, old girl?” He cooed, but she didn’t back down.

This time Hawke did grab his baseball bat, and held on to Dog’s leash as he opened the door.

No one.

He didn’t let go of Dog’s leash and took a few steps out on the porch, knocking his naked feet into a small, square box on his front porch. It was thankfully too small to contain a human head, but he still felt a cold chill down his back. He glanced around the driveway, but the dark made it impossible to see. He imagined feeling someone’s gaze boring into him. He shuddered, and lifted the small box into the hallway, locking and bolting the door behind him.

“Who was it?”

Fenris was standing behind him in the hallway, wearing nothing but his tight-fitted pants. Hawke was too shaken, however, to appreciate the sight.

Hawke didn’t answer, but stared down at the box in his arms, and in front of him Fenris paled.

“Should we just dump it in the fireplace?”

Fenris shook his head without even a moment’s hesitation. “Whatever it is, you can bet Danarius will keep sending it until we take a look. Give it here.” Fenris motioned with his hands, and Hawke hesitantly handed it to him.

“Are you sure it’s so-”

“I have to,” Fenris interrupted, his voice hard. He turned in a weird, joint-less way, and walked into the living room, dropping the box hard on the coffee table.

Following him awkwardly, Hawke ended up hovering near one of the oversized armchairs, resting his hands on top. He was unsure what to do, if he should go over there with all the support his family had instated in him, or wait on the sidelines until Fenris told him what to do. He chose the latter.

Fenris tore the lid open, tossing it inside, and hesitated only a moment before putting a trembling hand into the box, fishing out a small, white square. A polaroid. Hawke felt the blood drain from his face.

“It’s as I expected,” Fenris said bitterly, his top lip curled in disgust.

“I’m sorry,” Hawke stayed put, unsure, while Fenris kept digging through the numerous polaroids in the box.

“You might as well look at them now,” Fenris said dryly. “I’m sure he will keep sending them until you do.” He then sank down in the couch, covering his face in his hands.

Hawke hesitantly moved forward. It felt- It felt wrong, looking at them, even with Fenris’ consent. Voyeuristic and dirty.

“I’m not sure if-” Hawke started, but Fenris interrupted him with a sneer.

“Just do it, Hawke. It will not stop until you do!” He got back up on his feet, hesitated for a moment as if he was unsure if he should stay or go, before he finally disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned a moment later, it was cradling a bottle of wine which he stalked off with. He didn’t go in through the open bedroom door, but went into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Hawke watched him go, his mouth feeling dry, before he looked down at the box. He could see a few polaroids from where he was standing, something blurry that might be Fenris’ torso visible in one of them. He felt sick.

He paced for a moment, feeling like he had back when Fenris left the tape recorder on the kitchen table. He stopped, looked at the closed door to the guest bedroom, before he entered the kitchen for a glass of scotch. Bad habit be damned, he wouldn’t be able to do this without dulling his senses. He swallowed with a grimace, poured himself another, before going back into the living room.

Like Fenris’ hands, Hawke’s trembled as well as he reached for the first polaroid. It showed Fenris’ torso alright, someone’s hand caressing the pale lines on his chest. The hands looked too big, too rough and too dirty to be touching someone like Fenris. Hawke swallowed back the bile rising in the back of his throat. There was something about that image, the contrast between filth and purity that made his heart clench painfully. He carefully put it aside, reaching for the next one.

Fenris was smiling in this photograph. He looked young, like a child, cheeks round and smile wide. He was sitting on a tree that had fallen over, his feet dangling off the edge of it. No doubt taken before Danarius started his- Hawke swallowed thickly again.

It became a blur after that. Fenris growing up, his smile dying over the course of it. Fenris naked. Fenris either being too drunk or too strung out to care what was being done to him. Some shots showed Fenris being injected with something while passed out. It was like a display of perversion, and Hawke cursed Danarius until he ran out of words bad enough to describe him.

What made him angriest wasn’t the photos, or Danarius’ decision to send them, it was the small notes written neatly under each photograph. They were each so- So callus. Like he was describing some inanimate object, rather than an actual person. Each elegant loop and curve of letters contrasting in the worst of ways to the depictions in the photos.

Hawke paused at a portrait of Fenris. He looked sick in the picture, skinny arms wrapped around himself while he tried to hide his face for the camera. His shoulder bones jutted out, skin stretched taught over them. Under it, in Danarius’ delicate handwriting, was the caption ‘Misbehaving pet’. Hawke throwed it in the piles of photographs he’d already seen, going for the next one. Fenris was completely naked, lying face down in a bed. There were red marks crisscrossing his back, like someone had whipped him. The caption said ‘Punishment’.

 _Maker’s breath_ , Hawke paused with the photo in his hand, and rubbed over his eyes.

He worked himself down, until there was two photo left, and he stared at them with a sort of detached nausea. In one Fenris had his face tilted back, pleasure apparent on his face. It was better, better than the obvious discomfort in some of the others, but still not something Hawke wanted to see. In the final one he looked like a beaten animal.

He compared the two. The one of Fenris with pleasure written in every line of his face, mouth slack and head tilted back, the other of him with his head back for another reason altogether. Thick thumbs were pressed into each side of Fenris’ jugular, his brow scrunched with pain and fear. There was something else there, something strange, like there were a bit of pleasure mixed in with the other emotions. Hawke stared at it for a long time.

Then, with a shake of his head, he flicked the photos in the pile on the table, and stared at the bottom of the box. There, in Danarius’ neat script, was the message ‘Heard you lost your job’. Hawke grimaced. Of course Meredith went running to him. Of course she did.

He collected the polaroids like he would Dog’s, err, deposits, and dumped them back into the box, hiding it under the table. He hoped Fenris would let him burn them.

He got back up on his feet, and went straight for the bathroom where he washed his hands thoroughly. He felt filthy, touching what Danarius undoubtedly had handled just moment before. Then he filled water into the palms of his hands and splashed the cool water over his face. He stared at himself in the mirror for a brief moment, before finally going the long walk over to the guest bedroom. It wasn’t really, but it felt that way, and Dog stared at him with droopy eyes. He knocked on the door, and waited for Fenris to say something before carefully opening the door.

In the time it had taken Hawke to go through the pictures, Fenris had almost emptied the entire bottle of wine, looking thoroughly miserable on the edge of the narrow guest bed.

“Are you done?” he asked hoarsely, his voice scratchy from either alcohol or anger. Probably both.

“Yeah.” Hawke didn’t know what else to say.

“With me as well?” Fenris asked thinly, and Hawke could tell it took a lot of him to ask it.

“Of course not,” Hawke scoffed, and Fenris’ eyes snapped up to his.

“You’ve seen what I am,” Fenris said sharply, draining the rest of the wine with a scowl.

Hawke didn’t answer straight away. Instead he walked over to the bed and sat down next to him, and wrapped Fenris’ hands in his. He waited until Fenris looked at him before speaking.

“You’re more than a collection of photographs, Fenris.”

Fenris let out a puff of air. “You are far more understanding than I would ever have dared hope for.”

“Understanding of your situation? Yes. Understanding of his? Never.” Hawke balled his fists up. “I hope you won’t take my current calm as indecision. I’m gonna make him pay for this. We are gonna make him pay for this.”

“I just want to run,” Fenris admitted, looking away from Hawke. “Find some city far away, start a new life.”

“I think he should be the one to run away,” Hawke gritted through clenched teeth.

Fenris chuckled. “I think you are right. Let us give him something to worry about. I have done nothing wrong.” It didn’t quite look like he meant his own words, but Hawke was happy for the sentiment either way.

“Let’s go back to bed, love,” Hawke murmured, and if Fenris hated the spontaneous nickname, he didn’t let it show.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special and warm thanks to [DovaBunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/pseuds/DovaBunny) for giving me the help and encouragement to post this. She's amazing and I encourage all of you to read her lovely stories.

* * *

 

Early morning light spilled in through the sliding glass door, bathing the two of them in golden hues. The warmth of it was a nice contrast to what had felt like one of the worst night of Hawke’s life, dwarfed only by the night his father had died.

Next to him Fenris closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Then he seemed to relax under the warmth of the sun. Hawke, on the other hand, became acutely aware of just how dirty the windows were. Seemed he’d been a bit sloppy in his cleaning habits lately.

It didn’t seem important, but at the same time, the view made Hawke frown. He knew that if his mother had been here, she’d scold and lecture him on the importance of keeping a clean home. It used to annoy him, whenever she spoke of such things, but now, faced with his current dilemma, he realized he’d welcome any talks of grimy windows or dirty dishes. He’d welcome the triviality of it.

The photographs seemed more like a bad dream than anything that belonged in the real world. That was what Hawke kept telling himself, while simultaneously trying not to look at the small box under the living room table. Instead he stood quietly by the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee he was pretty sure contained tar and not actual coffee beans, but he didn’t have the heart to say as much to Fenris. In fact, parts of him welcomed the bitterness and the slight burn on the tip of his tongue, as it kept the heaviness in his chest at bay.

Fenris seemed lost in thoughts as he drank the foul liquid without a grimace. It was quite fascinating, really, and Hawke ended up studying Fenris’ face for any hint of displeasure. He had to wonder if Fenris had somehow mistaken Dog’s treats for coffee beans, although that didn’t explain the lingering taste of sludge in the back of his throat. Not that he’d ever willingly admit to anyone that he knew what Dog’s treats tasted like. Good thing she couldn’t speak.

Hawke looked over at Dog, catching her eyes, and he gave her a quick wink.

His gaze trailed back to the photographs. He was trying to distract himself, he knew that. More than anything he wanted to march over to the box of photos and chuck them out the window as far as he could throw them. Burn them, destroy them, or perhaps grind the photos into coffee. He stared into his cup. Now, there was an idea. Perhaps that was what Fenris had done.

“I want you to use the photographs,” Fenris broke the silence. “Of me,” he added needlessly, his tone as blank as his face.

Hawke had the cup paused halfway to his mouth, gobsmacked.

“The ones where I am not naked,” Fenris clarified, his voice wavering a little, as if he realized the severity of the request.

“I-” Hawke didn’t know how to say it diplomatically, and he ended up clearing his throat instead. “I have no idea why you’d ever want that.”

“Because-” Fenris started, rolling his shoulders back. “I am tired of being weak. I am tired of hiding. Tired of just planning to run, and never going through with it. Most of all I’m tired of being afraid he’ll use them against me. This way I can beat him to it, I can take that power back.” Fenris paused. “I can take myself back.”

“But-”

“This is his shame, not mine,” Fenris said firmly. “Besides, if you are able to-” he cut himself off and shook his head.

Hawke waited for him to finish his sentence, but he didn’t. Instead Fenris resumed his quiet musings with the cup of coffee in his hands and a furrow between his eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hawke said, and finally placed his cup in the sink. He might not be brave enough to conquer the cup of coffee, but he was, however, determined to see this story through to the very end.

He didn’t tell Fenris as much, just walked over so he could place a kiss on his lips. Fenris’ lips were slack and smelled vaguely of alcohol, but Hawke didn’t comment on it.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Hawke said with a smile and studied Fenris again in the early morning light. Despite the emptiness in Fenris’ tone, there was a fire burning in his eyes that Hawke was happy to see.

It made it that much easier to face the day. Face all of it. For Fenris.  
  


* * *

  
Hawke had been so used to Carver’s photographs and layouts that it felt strange handing the polaroids of Fenris to someone else. Not just because of the old familiarity, but the strain of letting someone see what Fenris had tried so desperately to hide for so long.

Orsino’s people were pleasant and professional, and if they had any thoughts about Fenris’ pictures, they didn’t say a word about it. Hawke was endlessly grateful for it, because he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He had a feeling that one bad word against Fenris would’ve had him flipping tables, next. The mental image was almost funny, but Hawke didn't have it in him to 

Hawke sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, checking for any missed calls or texts, finding none. It was making him restless. Fenris had agreed to let Aveline and Varric go over his contract, and hopefully that would mean he’d file a complaint against Danarius by the end of the day. Though, the longer it took for Hawke to hear anything back, the more he worried that perhaps the contract had been legal all along, which would leave only the article.

Hawke’s world was thrown off-balance. Things were suddenly moving so fast, after all this time of being inactive, yet he felt like he was stuck in toffee, moving slower than ever. Maybe a more fitting image would be quicksand, because he felt as if the more he squirmed and tried to fight it, the bigger the risk seemed to get.

Because it wasn’t just the lack of texts that bothered him. No, truth be told, Orsino was taking a great risk with this expose, and Hawke knew and appreciated this greatly. Danarius probably had a full board of lawyers behind him, and if Hawke was accused of defamation, then Danarius would no doubt take them all down with him. Hell, probably everyone down to the boy selling newspapers on the corner of the street. Everyone had warned him that Danarius was a powerful enemy to have, and Hawke was just beginning to see just how much.

It was a difficult thing, trying to angle the case in a way that would lessen the chances of being sued, when all Hawke wanted to do was slander Danarius any way possible. If nothing else though, Hawke wanted to protect Fenris and Orsino from the same accusations. Which was why he allowed Orsino’s people to smoothe over certain parts of the story, and rephrase other things.

When he finally read the final result he felt sick to his stomach. It was certainly less likely to cause a lawsuit, but it was too vague for Hawke’s liking. He hated admitting that, because admitting that meant taking a stab at the other people who had worked there along with him. With their extensive know-how and wide network of people, they had managed to interview quite a few who had seen Danarius’ questionable ethics, although none had quite the same story as Fenris. Apparently Fenris really had been special to Danarius.

So far, Hawke’s favourite additions to the story was the contractor hired to fix up the abandoned warehouse after Danarius bought it, telling quite a few sensationalized stories about elaborate bedrooms and a wide array of young lovers. Or the anonymous female singer saying Danarius had offered her a record deal for monthly visits to his bed. She had been fourteen at the time, and Hawke shuddered to think that seemed to be a common denominator with Danarius’ musical finds.

It felt like something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. Hawke had, if he was being brutally honest with himself, been unsure if this case would bring him anything but a lawsuit, but they had all worked hard into making the story into something that was hopefully still vague enough to elude the long arms of the law, while still hitting hard enough to knock Danarius back. All in all, Hawke realized, they had really done the best they could. In fact, he should bring a big basket of muffins into work after all this was done.

“-I said, I think we have to call it quits for tonight.”

Hawke startled out of his own thoughts, and judging by the look on the young interns face, it wasn’t the first time she’d told him. She looked as tired as he felt and he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Great,” Hawke said, but his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears, and he quickly glanced up at her. “You’re right. You guys have been great, thank you.”

He sank back into his chair after she left, frowning at the document on the screen.

It felt like something surreal and terrifying, that by this time tomorrow, the story would be done, and they would have placed all their pieces out with nothing else than wait for Danarius’ move.

Even though Hawke knew better, he hoped Danarius wouldn’t go straight for a check mate.  
  


* * *

  
In the end, Fenris never did text him. It wasn’t uncommon, Fenris seemed to prefer calling to texting, but Hawke still breathed a long sigh of relief when Aveline sent him a text that said nothing but “that bastard.” It had been enough for Hawke, who suddenly breathed a little easier.

The ride home was tense and draining, and Hawke found it hard to keep his focus on the road. It had been raining, the wet streets reflecting the shimmering neon lights. It would have seemed magical on any other night, but Hawke was too tired to appreciate the sight, or even leave the radio on. Somehow the music had just seemed to distract him from thinking, hell, from breathing, and so he drove home to the soothing sounds of rain and his windscreen wipers.

It had been a long day, longer than most, and Fenris was already dozing off when Hawke finally slid down behind him in bed, placing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

The bedside lamp was still on, and in the muted light, now that he knew what he was looking for, he could easily see the pale, thin lines criss-crossing Fenris’ back. He wondered what other marks he’d find on his body, or if he even wanted to look for them, but realized at the moment he didn’t want to know.

He trailed his fingers carefully across the pale scars, feeling the slight dip of the deepest ones, and Fenris stiffened. Hawke let his fingers trail across Fenris’ back and down his waist before finally resting his hand on his hip. He placed a kiss between Fenris’ shoulderblades, and felt Fenris melt a little into the touch.

“You know it doesn’t matter to me, right?” Hawke mumbled against Fenris’ skin.

“You could be referring to a multitude of matters, Hawke,” Fenris said dryly.

“Your scars. Your past. All of it.”

“I’m not certain how it could not, considering it will affect you as much as it does me.” Fenris said after a slight pause, shifting a little under the touch.

“What do you mean?”

Fenris turned to look at him, and there was something torn on his face, like he was debating himself on whether or not he should continue.

“Life is too short,” he finally said. “Perhaps it would be better to spend that on someone who isn’t so broken.”

“You’re no-”

“Yes, I am!” Fenris sat up. “You keep saying that I’m not, when I clearly am. Do you not know me by now?”

“I do, you know I do.” Hawke sat up as well, wanting to reach out and comfort Fenris, but realized now was not the time. “I just don’t see things the way you do,” he added gently.

Fenris glared at him with indecision, before continuing. “If I was less selfish I would let you go, Hawke, let you spend your time on someone who wouldn’t require so much of it.”

“I’m glad you’re selfish, then.” Hawke finally reached out for Fenris’ hand, delighted when Fenris squeezed his fingers in return.

“You are hopeless, Hawke.” Fenris chuckled and shook his head. “Every time I try to have you see reason, somehow you touch me and I forget it all.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It is when what I’m trying to say is important.”

“More important that this?” Hawke raised their entwined fingers for Fenris to see.

“You got me there,” Fenris said after a brief pause, his eyes softening. “But still, Hawke. Danarius will come for me, one way or another, even if he has to tear you down to do so.”

“Let him come,” Hawke said in a moment of foolish overconfidence, ignoring the pained look Fenris sent him.

“I hope you won’t come to regret those words,” Fenris said, but allowed Hawke to pull him close just the same.

And for all his cheerful words and confidence, Hawke hoped the same.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugs and kisses to the lovely [Dovabunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny) for holding my hand through this <3

* * *

   
In time, Hawke had come to consider the box of photographs the first blow. The second came just the following day. Perhaps it was his overconfidence that really sealed the deal, perhaps it was chance, either way it was devastating.

Hawke was still at home, engrossed in a status report emailed to him by Orsino’s people, when someone seemed to scramble for footing outside the front door before he heard Fenris’ frantic voice.

“Hawke?! Hawke! You have to help me, she is- I don’t know what is wrong with her!”

Hawke, unsure who or what Fenris was talking about, got up so fast he knocked the chair over and rushed for the door.

Fenris hadn’t been able to open the door more than an inch, and Hawke’s heart sank low in his chest when he realized why.

Fenris was sitting on his knees, frantically trying to calm a violently spasming Dog.

“What happened?” Hawke dropped to his knees beside Fenris, carefully moving his hands away before moving Dog over on her side.

“We were at the park like normal, and suddenly she was eating something, I-” Fenris was stammering and sounded out of breath. He must have carried Dog’s massive bulk home. “I did not bring my phone- I had no idea- I-”

“Go inside,” Hawke instructed, while holding Dog so she wouldn’t fall off the step. “The number for the vet is on speed dial. Call him and explain what happened.”

Hawke sounded calm, but internally he was raging like a stormy sea. Dog, _his Dog_ , his companion since he had been a young boy, convulsed violently below him a few more times before going very still. Hawke lowered his head onto her wide ribcage and listened for her heart. His own blood was rushing in his ear, his breathing ragged, and he sucked in a long breath and hold it, before trying again.

For a moment he was certain there was none at all, until there. There. Her heart was still beating, and Hawke stroked the long expanse of her back.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You stay alive for me, you hear?”

“... Started losing her balance, then she started having seizures-”

Hawke could hear Fenris speaking to the vet, and he carefully slid his hands under Dog and lifted her up. The action reminded him of when he first got her, of that tiny weight that somehow had seen so tremendous as a child. He promised then he would always stay by her side, and he would not break that promise now.

“You’ll make it,” he murmured, holding her close. He kept hoping for any sign that she could hear him, but her tail stayed limp.

Fenris rushed out of the apartment, phone still against his ear and keys in his hand.

“We will come in right away,” Fenris said, slamming the door shut and locking it. “Thank you.”

He took one look on Hawke holding Dog in his arms and opened the car door for them, sliding Hawke's phone in his pocket.

“I’ll stay with her in the back,” he offered, and Hawke nodded. Fenris slid in first, putting his seatbelt on, before Hawke moved Dog in after him, resting her big head on Fenris’ lap.

“There’s a blanket behind your head,” Hawke said weakly. “Put it under her head in case she vomits.”

He didn’t wait to see if Fenris followed his instructions, rushing for the driver seat door instead.

His hands were shaking as he got into his seat, and it took a nudge from Fenris before he realized that Fenris had the keys.

“Breathe, Garrett,” Fenris said, which was ironic coming from a man whose breathing was just as uneven and frantic.

“Right,” Hawke said, and let the car wake with a roar before backing out of the driveway. “Right,” he repeated once out on the street. It wouldn’t do them any favours if Hawke lost his cool, and he forced his breathing to slow down and even out as he took the fastest side streets he knew of to the vet.

Hawke’s mind was racing, and when Fenris spoke next, it confirmed what Hawke had already suspected.

“This was Danarius.”

“Would he really sink so low as to poison an innocent dog?” Hawke asked, but when he met Fenris’ glare in the mirror, he already knew the answer. “... I guess I shouldn’t have been so confident last night.”

“I am sorry, Hawke,” Fenris said, and when Hawke looked back into the mirror, Fenris had his gaze fixed on Dog’s head. “I should have been more careful, should have-”

“None of that,” Hawke told him, and his voice was a little sterner than what he would have liked, because Fenris startled. “This is exactly what Danarius wants to happen.”

“You are right,” Fenris said, but he still bowed his head in a way that Hawke wasn’t completely happy with.

“How's she doing?” he asked.

“She feels warm to the touch.” Fenris moved in the seat. “Far warmer than normal.”

“Okay, we’re nearly there,” Hawke said through clenched teeth, taking the next couple of turns in a higher speed than he was strictly comfortable with. “Call Bethany, please, tell her what’s happening.”

Fenris didn’t answer, but quickly fished out Hawke’s cell phone from his pocket.

Hawke didn’t listen to the short conversation, too focused on getting them to the vet in one piece. He was more than a little relieved when he saw the building in the distance, and he allowed himself a quick glance at Dog before he drove into the parking lot.

Hawke was out of the car almost before he had parked it, lifting Dog carefully back into his arms. She really was warmer than before, and when he carried her, he could feel her heart hammering against him as she convulsed again.

“I got you,” he whispered into her fur. “I got you, girlie.”

Stroud and two assistants were already waiting for him by the reception, and Stroud’s eyebrows cinched together at the sight of Dog. He had been their vet for as long as Hawke could remember, and he imagined the sight of her must be distressing to him as well. But if it did, Stroud didn’t let it show - ever the professional - letting his expression smoothe out when he noticed Hawke’s eyes on him.

“This way,” he said, gesturing to one of the open examination rooms, and Hawke carried her through and tried to make sure she wouldn’t fall off the table.

“So you said she ingested something unidentifiable while on a walk?”

Hawke hadn’t been aware that Fenris had followed them, until he heard him answer Stroud’s question.

“Yes.” Fenris fidgeted before continuing. “It was something small and round, I did not have time to stop her.”

At that Hawke had to smile a watery smile and bury his fingers in Dog’s fur in a caress. Damn gluttonous dog. She’d never turn down a treat or a cuddle from a random stranger. For a supposed guard dog, she was way too trusting.

“Did she throw up after?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “Twice.”

“Did you bring a sample of it?”

“N-No.”

Hawke looked up, catching Fenris twisting his hands together like he did when he felt he had done something wrong.

“I could go back,” he offered.

“No, that’s alright.” Stroud patted Fenris’ shoulder before leaning over Dog. “Turn down the dimmers, please.”

It was a strange request, but Hawke did as ordered, surprised when Dog’s seizures minimized under the lowered light.

“As I thought,” Stroud said, but offered no further insight. “We need to take a few samples, and administer something for the muscle spasms.” He shot Hawke a look. “I won’t lie to you, I can’t guarantee a positive outcome. I suggest you wait in the lobby.”

“But I-”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to insist.”

Hawke was about to object again when Fenris put his hand on Hawke’s shoulder, and after another stroke of Dog’s wide head, he followed Fenris out. The last thing he saw before the door was shut behind them was Stroud sticking a needle into Dog’s left leg.  
  


* * *

  
Bethany arrived not ten minutes later, disheveled and out of breath, her eyes red.

“Is she-” she managed to gasp out.

“Still alive,” Hawke said, and got up to embrace her. She clung to him immediately, sobbing against his chest. Hawke stroked her hair. “Is Carver coming?”

“He’s out of town,” Bethany sniffed. “Told me to call him with any news.”

“Mother?”

“Said the same. And she wants us to come over later.”

Hawke knew that Dog was a big part of his family, but he hadn’t really realized just what a vital part she was, how much everyone cared for her, until that very moment.

Hawke looked over his shoulder, finding Fenris standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back, and it suddenly dawned on him that Fenris had not yet met Bethany.

“Bethany,” he murmured, pulling away. “I’d like you to meet Fenris. He single-handedly carried Dog from the park and to the apartment with nothing but sheer force of will.”

Bethany sniffed again and wiped her eyes, and when Fenris stepped forward and raised his hand, she ignored it and hugged him instead.

In hindsight, Hawke realized he should have warned him Bethy was a hugger, but at the same time he was happy he hadn’t. Fenris’ arched his back like a cat, his expression unlike anything Hawke had seen on his face before, and it somehow made the situation a little more bearable.

“Fenris, this is my baby sister, Bethany.”

“Thank you, Fenris,” Bethany sobbed against his chest. “Thank you for Dog, and thank you for Hawke.”

Fenris had his arms hovering mid-air, but he carefully lowered them to awkwardly pat Bethany’s back.

“I am not quite sure what for, but you are welcome.”

Bethany lifted her head to look at Fenris, smiling up at him. "For caring for Dog, and for caring for my doofus, lonely bro-"

“Thank you, Bethany, that’s enough!” Hawke interrupted with a laugh and pulled her away from Fenris. He was happy for it, though. Happy the people in his life could take his mind off horrible things right when he needed it most.

They decided to sit in a corner of the reception area, and Alistair, the receptionist, kept giving them coffee that tasted almost as foul as the one Fenris had served. He kept blushing when Bethany smiled to him, and Hawke had an inkling that the cookies he later brought over had more to do with Bethany than casual customer service.

“I think I will ask mother if she can take care of Dog for a few weeks,” Hawke said into his coffee. He had thought about it ever since leaving Dog in Stroud’s capable hands. “I mean, if she-” He stopped the thought there.

When he looked up, Bethany looked like she agreed with his assessment, while Fenris’ lips were pinched in a tight line. Hawke knew what he was thinking, of course he did, because he knew Fenris by now.

Fenris seemed to know Hawke as well, because when their eyes met, Fenris shook his head at the expression on Hawke’s face and looked away.

“It’s not gonna be forever,” Hawke said carefully, aimed at Fenris, but Bethany was the one to answer.

“No, of course not, I understand, and I know mother will as well.”

“I suppose there’s nothing we can do right now,” Hawke sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight wince. The muscles there felt strained and he longed for a nice hot bath. Or Fenris’ fingers. Or both.

“So now we wait,” Bethany said, her foot bouncing up and down on the tiled floor.

“Now we wait,” Hawke agreed, watching his sister’s fretting with a gentle smile. Even when everything crumbled, he was happy to see that certain things did not change, like the support of those near and dear to him.  
  


* * *

  
It was an agonizing couple of hours, and it didn’t help that the assistants were rushing to and from the examination room with bags of IV fluids and unidentified medication.

“It’s a good sign,” Bethany said with a pat to his hand. “Means she’s still fighting.”

That didn’t help at all either, because after that Hawke would start sweating when they took too long to open the door again. He didn’t tell her as much, because judging by the lines on Bethany’s forehead, she was as worried as he was.

He had completely lost track of time when Stroud finally came out. The man looked ill at ease, but he still smiled when he met Hawke’s eyes.

“We got her stabilized,” he said, and smiled when Bethany and Hawke both made a shout of relief and joy, hugging each other.

“What happened to her?” Fenris asked, and Stroud looked uncomfortable once again.

“Strychnine,” he said, and added, “Rat poison,” when he saw their looks of confusion.

“Strychnine,” Hawke repeated. It was a poison he associated with late night crime shows his mother watched, not walks in the park.

“As I’m certain Dog wasn’t sniffing around barns or eating dead rats, then it most likely means that someone was either actively trying to poison Dog specifically, or another animal.” He shot Fenris a sharp look. “You said this happened at the dog park?”

“Yes,” Fenris said. “And it definitely wasn’t a dead animal.”

Stroud hummed, but didn’t answer right away.

Of course, none of this came as a real shock to Hawke, he had known that Danarius was no doubt the culprit, but he’d had some vague hope that it was a coincidence. To have it confirmed like this sent a cold chill down his spine. Apparently there really was nothing Danarius wouldn’t do to get to Fenris.

“I’d like to keep her under observation until tomorrow, but I think she’ll pull through once we have the seizures under control.”

“Can we see her?” Bethany asked thinly, and both Hawke and Fenris gave Stroud a hopeful wide-eyed stare.

“Sure, but I’ll have to ask you to keep the noise at a minimum. A lot of external stimuli triggers the attacks.” Stroud stepped aside to let the three walk in front of him. “We’ll do more tests to make sure her kidneys haven’t been damaged, but the old girl is a fighter, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I know,” Hawke said like a proud parent on the first day of school. “She’s something else.”

Dog, as wonderful and loyal as she was, still had the face of a fighting mutt, which made it all the more heartbreaking to see her lying there slack-jawed and still. Hawke knelt down next to her, and let her sniff his hands. She did one lazy thump of her tail and Hawke chuckled softly in relief as he buried his hand in her fur again.

“Good girl,” he whispered to her. “Such a good girl.”

Fenris stayed in the background, but Hawke could see he was both relieved and moved, while Bethany draped herself over Dog with a quiet sob.

“I’ll give you an update during the evening and then you can come pick her up in the morning.” Stroud didn’t outright say it was time to leave, but Hawke got the meaning anyway.

“Thank you, for everything,” he said, shaking Stroud’s hand with both of his.

“Of course, don’t mention it,” Stroud replied with a twinkle in his eyes. “Although I hope this will be the last time I’ll have to decontaminate your dog's digestive tract.”

“Agreed,” Hawke laughed, and after a quick kiss to Dog’s head, he pulled Bethany off and dragged her towards the door.

Despite Bethany’s weak protests, they left the clinic quietly and once on the parking lot, Hawke turned to Fenris, scratching the back of his head.

“So, uh,” he started. “I should go talk to my mother. I’d like for you to meet her, of course, but you don’t-”

“I’d like that,” Fenris said, and Hawke thought he could see the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

“Oh!” Hawke grinned back at him, ignoring the giggles from Bethany. “That’s- That’s great. I’ve wanted you to meet her.”

“Hey loser,” Bethany interrupted, “I took a cab here, so could you open the car for your sister? Please?” She yanked the car handle with an exaggerated frown, and Hawke pulled himself away from Fenris long enough to unlock the car doors.

Then, unabashedly, he kissed Fenris before opening the car door for him as well.

He was relieved, first and foremost, but there was something else bubbling right under the surface; an anger he wanted to hide from both Fenris and Bethany. Danarius had probably hoped that this little stunt of his would deter Hawke from publishing his expose, but he would be very wrong in assuming it would work. If anything, Hawke was now even more determined to see this through.

 _You watch yourself, Danarius,_ Hawke thought when he sat down behind the wheel. _You watch yourself, because_   _I’m coming for you._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warm thanks to [Dovabunny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DovaBunny/pseuds/DovaBunny) whose help has been priceless, and kept me from just staring at this in wide-eyed terror <3

* * *

   
“Do it.”

That’s what Hawke had told Orsino. To do it, to print the story, to expose Danarius. But now that it was all said and done, he couldn’t help but regret the words.

Because the third blow inevitably came.  
  


* * *

  
Their childhood home looked like it had back then, minus the toys in the driveway.

Hawke could see Fenris scrutinizing it, no doubt comparing it to his own troubled childhood. For a moment, Hawke imagined he could see it through Fenris’ eyes: the two story house that had once been a grand manor, but in time became a comfortable family home instead with a big garden, a swing-set in the old oak tree, and all the other signs of a safe and protected childhood. Well, as protected as it could have been after their father passed, but it was still miles from how Fenris had grown up.

Hawke hooked an arm around Fenris' waist. “Still not too late to turn and run, you know.”

“No, I would like to meet your mother,” Fenris said. “And to get to know your sister better.”

Bethany beamed at him.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t-”

“Bethany! Garrett!” In one elegant motion, Leandra flung open the door and called out for them, rushing over so she could pull them both into a hug. “My dear, sweet children.”

“Hello mother,” Hawke chuckled, patting her back while she kissed the top of Bethany's head.

“So happy that our dear old Dog will- Oh!” she turned to Fenris. “You must be Fenris! Garrett hasn’t stopped talk-”

“Yes, yes, that’s quite enough.” Hawke shook his head. His mother and sister had a bad habit of talking way too much it seemed. Oddly enough he’d never noticed before.

“I am very pleased to finally meet you, Mrs. Hawke.” Fenris said and bowed his head slightly.

“Leandra, please,” Leandra said, waving her hand at him. “Now come in, come in.”

As Hawke followed Fenris in through the wide double doors, he heard his mother whisper, “So handsome! And so well-spoken, dearest me!”

_Maker’s breath._

Fenris pretended not to hear, and Hawke could tell he was also trying hard not to look around too much in their spacious front hall. Hawke had never thought too much about his house growing up, but the large fireplace and tall ceilings certainly made the place look stately.

They had never been wealthy, though, the house was merely inherited from his mother’s family. What money Malcolm, Hawke’s father, had brought into the marriage had been spent fixing the place up and turn it into a home.

“I’ve made Sunday roast chicken and scalloped potatoes, I hope you’re all hungry!” She patted Fenris’ back as she spoke, no doubt checking him for any lack of fat. Poor Fenris didn’t know what he had let himself in for if she deemed him too thin. “And caramel pudding for dessert,” she added.

 _Too thin, then_ , Hawke thought with a smile.  
  


* * *

  
Dusk fell over the house, and despite the season, Leandra had Hawke start a fire in the hearth. The meal was excellent and even Fenris ate to excess. His cheeks had gotten a faint rosy glow from the wine served, and the conversation flowed easily between the four.

In a fit of nostalgia Bethany had asked Leandra to tell them of how she had met Malcom and left her family for him. Hawke had heard the story a million times before, but he still adored the lookon his mother’s face whenever she spoke of that magical evening with merry-go-rounds, mulled wine and cold hands made warm together.

“- And I never loved again,” Leandra confessed with a soft smile. “My Malcom was a wonderful man, and I daresay our Garrett takes after him.” At that she patted Fenris’ hand.

“I never met Malcolm,” Fenris said. “But I think I would have to agree.” At that he sent a look so tender Hawke’s way, that it almost took Hawke’s breath away.

“First Carver and now Garrett,” Leandra said with a smile. “Now my little girl needs to find someone and then I can fully relax.”

Bethany rolled her eyes and grabbed another shortbread. “Don’t hold your breath, mom, I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

“You say that now, but it’s no good being alone, what if-”

“Bethany isn’t alone,” Hawke said and squeezed his sister’s hand. “She has all of us, after all.”

“My older brother, ever the diplomat,” Bethany rolled her eyes, but her smile was still fond when she looked at him.

“Gotta take care of my baby sister, now, don’t I?” Hawke leaned forward and planted an exceptionally wet, loud smooch on her forehead.

“That said, I do hope you’ll consider moving, Garrett,” Leandra said, her brow furrowing. “You know I’ve never approved of the neighbourhood, and now Dog…”

“I like the neighbourhood,” Hawke protested, but quickly continued before she had the chance to argue, “But I promise to consider it.”

“Good,” Leandra said. “Now, who wants more pudding?”  
  


* * *

  
It hadn’t been more than a day since they visited Hawke’s mother, but it felt like a lifetime ago, now.

Hawke and Fenris sat in front of the TV, too numb to say a single word, watching Danarius answer to the allegations made against him.

Hawke felt a detached sort of nausea watching it, especially after the evening they had shared. Even more so after the luck of rescuing Dog in time, who was now safely at his mother's house. The contrast was disgusting.

Danarius was as smooth as an eel and just as difficult to catch, his reasonings and explanations not only reasonable, but understandable; Fenris was but a ragged street child, starved for attention and money. Of course that’s how he’d angle it. Of course it was. What was sad was how eager the reporters were to agree with him.

Fenris was quiet, but pale and thin-lipped, one leg raised up so he could rest his head on it. Rest his head on it or hide, Hawke wasn’t entirely sure. He hadn’t said a word since the press conference had started.

“Are there any truths to the allegations against you?” a reporter asked next.

“I’ve had this business for many years, and I’ve worked hard for it,” Danarius started. “If I had a habit of-” He stopped himself and made a grimace. “- Abusing my employees, don’t you think it would have made headlines years ago? No, I knew Fenris would be trouble the moment I saw him, but I still decided to give him a chance, it is just the kind of person I am.”

He had videos too. Hawke shouldn’t have been surprised after the photographs he had gotten, but somehow he still was. Maybe he’d had some vague hope that people weren’t as evil as perceived in fairy tales, but clearly he was wrong. Danarius was like a mix of every storybook villain, only more ruthless, more cunning, and extraordinary evil.

They didn’t show many clips from the videos, but Danarius gleefully stated that it was because of the nature of the tapes; they couldn’t show nudity after all. There were hushed murmurs and laughter from the sea of reporters.

What they did show was- Hawke didn’t have words for it. Once the second one rolled, Fenris got up and walked into the kitchen for the bottles of wine Hawke knew he stored there, but never mentioned. He had already opened it by the time he sat down again, and he drank it greedily.

Fenris was drunk in the video - or drugged, it was hard to say with his slurred speech and unsteady gait - but he talked about how lucky he was. How lucky he was to have Danarius. Hawke hoped people would be able to see past it, but he worried that they wouldn’t.

“Rock stars,” Danarius sneered. “They are all the same. Too greedy and dishonest to do anything but beg for more.”

Fenris made a strangled sound.

“Does this mean Somniari will disband?”

“No,” Danarius said firmly. Then he smiled, though the smile seemed more like a painful grimace than something genuine. “The lineup might change, but Somniari will live on.”

Hawke turned to Fenris. “Have you talked to anyone in the band?”

“Tallis. Briefly,” Fenris murmured, and took another swig of his wine. “Said she didn’t have any reasons to quit, but that Anders might.”

“Good man, Anders,” Hawke said quietly.

“Yes, well,” Fenris said, a bitter expression on his face. “I am certain he would have made your life easier, at least.”

“Easy is overrated,” Hawke said, and inched closer to Fenris.

“Yes, nothing is better than a lover with-”

“Hush, babe,” Hawke whispered, twining their fingers together. “Don’t let him get between us, please.”

Fenris shot him a sideways glance, but leaned into him all the same.

“What about the other claims against you?” someone asked from the audience. “This is more than just one disgruntled rock star?”

“What I find perplexing,” Danarius started, and leaned forward. He reminded Hawke of a predator. “Is how no one is questioning the timing of these claims.”

Hawke felt Fenris’ fingers twitch.

“How is it that no one is questioning the ethics behind this. Isn’t it a conflict of interest for Fenris’ new lover to make these allegations?”

There was a murmur coming from the crowd, and Danarius continued with a wide smirk.

“Garrett Hawke quit his longstanding job with Meredith Stannard at Stannard publishings after she recognized the conflict of interest, choosing instead to take his…” Danarius scrunched his nose. “Work to Orsino, a man notorious for his lack of-” He cut himself off, fully knowing people already knew what he was about to say.

“So this Garrett Hawke and Fenris are dating?”

“Indeed they are,” Danarius said. “Although I’m not sure if dating is the right word.”

Maker’s breath, he was slick.

“In fact, their relationship started while Fenris was still under contract. Tell me, if I’m such a tyrant, how did he find the time, and the opportunity, to not only meet someone, but move in with him?”

The screen went black before Hawke understood what had happened, and when he turned to Fenris, he found him with the remote still pointed at the TV.

“I do not want to hear his lies,” Fenris murmured. “Not anymore.”

“Understandable. Should we head on to bed?”

“In a moment,” Fenris said, gesturing to the bottle of wine.

“I’ll go on ahead, then.”

There was something awkward between them, but Hawke wasn’t sure what to do with it. He watched Fenris for a moment before giving up and shuffled over to the bathroom instead.

Once the door was firmly closed behind him, Hawke sank to the floor and pressed his fist against his mouth. He’d been raised not to hate anyone, but he hated Danarius more than he ever thought it possible to hate anyone. Suddenly crimes of passion seemed completely reasonable, because he really wanted to kill Danarius.

And Fenris, frail, but oh, so powerful Fenris. Hawke’s heart broke for him, and for all the things he had not only endured, but still had to endure. A choked sob slipped past Hawke’s fist. His chest felt hollow at the thought of what Fenris had to suffer because of this man, and Hawke felt powerless to stop it. What were his words to Danarius’ power?

Hawke got up and turned on the faucet, letting the water run icy cold before filling his palms and splashing it over his face. He didn’t want Fenris to see how much this was hurting him as well. He needed to be strong for Fenris. If everything else in Fenris’ life crumbled and fell, he’d be there as a lasting pillar. The flowery thoughts almost had him chuckle, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, there was nothing to suggest he had been crying.

With practiced ease he opened the cabinet door and got out his toothbrush and toothpaste. If nothing else, he liked the routines. Despite everything else that was going on, there was something comforting about brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed like he had done since he was a child. Since before loss and pain gave any resonance in his heart.

Feeling a bit better, he checked his email while brushing, like he always did. There was a few emails from friends he hadn’t seen in years, asking if Fenris really was living with him now. They’d probably invite themselves over for tea, one of these days. Then one from Isabela that almost had Hawke spit toothpaste all over his mirror. 'Danarius is such a-' Hawke shook his head at her colourful language. At least he could count on her to never change.

But then there was an email without a subject line, from an address that seemed randomly generated. Something heavy immediately settled in his stomach and he had to sit down on the toilet, his toothbrush long forgotten.

He didn’t want to open it. Hawke closed his eyes. Nothing good would come from opening that email, he knew, but his fingers still hovered over it.

“Hawke, you in there?”

The soft knock pulled Hawke out of his trance and he quickly put his phone back in his pocket.

“Come on in.”

Fenris looked different when he entered, different and the same, and Hawke barely had time to put his toothbrush away before Fenris pressed himself closer.

“Want you,” Fenris murmured against Hawke’s lips. “Need you now.”

“I’m not sure if-”

Fenris didn’t let him finish, pressing a hand to Hawke’s crotch with a groan instead.

Being close to Fenris like this, surrounded by the taste of him, the smell of him, Hawke forgot about the press conference, the email, everything Danarius ever was. Nothing there but Fenris wanting him, Fenris needing him, the rise and fall of his chest, his hands, all of him.

“Me too,” Hawke mumbled, hoisting Fenris into his arms. “I need you too, love.”


End file.
